cT.1.22., 

LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

Purchased  by  the  Hamill  Missionary  Fund. 


Division, 


Section.'. 


XIS4S5' 

B8ITS 


The  Famous  Shwe  Dagon  Pagoda,  Rangoon. 


IN  THE 


Land  of  Pagodas 


by 

ROBERT  B.'THURBER 


SOUTHERN  PUBLISHING  ASSOCIATION 
NASHVILLE.  TENNESSEE 

Fort  Worth,  Texas 


Atlanta.  Georgia 


Copyrighted  1921.  by 
Southern  Publishing  Association 
Nashville,  Tennessee 


To  the  valiant  Christian  youth 
of  America  this  little  book  is 

DEDICATED 


with  the  hope  of  the  author 
that  it  may  inspire  in  them 
a love  of  those  other  youth 
who  live  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  earth 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/inlandofpagodas00thur_0 


CONTENTS 


I Called  Over 9 

II  The  Gate 21 

III  The  Way  In 35 

IV  Strangers  Within  . . . 57 

V  The  Burman  Himself — and  Herself  69 

VI  The  Way  Up  Country  . . 84 

VII  Of  the  Burmans  Burmese  . .107 

VIII  The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  . 132 

IX  The  Tongue  and  the  Script  . .156 

X  The  Fruits  of  the  Ground  . 170 

XI  The  Beasts  that  Perish  . .184 

XII  The  Heat  and  the  Hills  . . 206 

XIII  Play  Time  220 

XIV  The  Industrial  Method  . . 244 

XV  The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  264 

XVI  The  Rewards  of  Labor  . . 280 

XVII  The  Way  Out 305 


7 


A View  of  the  Ilnrbor  of  Rangoon 


CHAPTER  I 


CALLED  OVER 

A LITTLE  party  of  eager  missionaries,  we 
lined  the  rail  of  the  Lunka  as  she  plowed 
her  way  through  the  yellow  waters  of  the 
Gulf  of  Martaban.  Beckoned  to  the  Orient  to 
answer  insistent  calls  from  newly  opened  fields, 
we  were  at  last  on  the  very  threshold  of  the 
“silken  East.”  Home  ties  had  been  strained, 
and  were  beginning  to  lose  their  pull,  while 
our  eyes  were  longing  to  catch  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  land  of  our  adoption. 

The  view  was  not  assuring — as  to  scenery. 
Our  expectant  gaze  met  low  mud  banks  rising 
out  of  the  delta  flood,  a closer  look  descrying 
them  fringed  with  palm  trees,  whose  spindling 
trunks  crisscrossed  on  the  horizon  line  and 
lifted  wavy  tufts  into  the  shimmering  heat 
waves  of  the  late  afternoon. 

Our  steamer  slowly  swung  in  a gigantic  arc 
up  toward  a broad  opening  in  the  interminable 
flats.  The  sea-gulls,  welcomers  to  every  coast, 
wheeled  and  screamed  about  our  heads.  Away 

9 


10 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


to  the  north  a smoky  mist  shrouded  the  land, 
seeming  strangely  out  of  keeping  with  the  soft 
sunset  light  that  bathed  the  turbid  waters 
around  us. 

We  were  wondering  what  next  after  mud  and 
mist,  when  someone  suddenly  exclaimed,  “Oh 
look!” — and  there,  far  ahead,  rising  sheer  out 
of  the  lowlands,  a tapering  shape  towered  from 
the  gloom  that  hid  its  base,  its  gilded  point 
catching  a glint  of  the  golden  west.  Dominat- 
ing the  entire  landscape,  the  first  object  of  inter- 
est, it  held  our  keen  attention  and  started  a 
thought-train  of  wonder  and  curiosity. 

Then  at  our  side  a fellow-traveler,  who  had 
been  over  the  way  before,  volunteered  an  ex- 
planation: “The  Shwe  Dagon  Pagoda,  the 
largest  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  Among  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  others  it  stands  supreme.  Its 
top  is  over  five  hundred  feet  above  the  city 
below.  Its  sides  are  partly  covered  with  gold 
plates;  and  parts  of  it  were  studded  with  jewels 
in  the  old  days.  Some  say  they  are  still.” 

We  caught  our  breath  with  renewed  interest, 
and  gazed  long  and  fixedly  at  the  far-away 
shrine,  utterly  oblivious  of  our  near  approach  to 
the  entrance  of  the  Rangoon  River.  But  twi- 
light slowly  settled  down,  shutting  the  great 
tower  from  view.  Now  the  river  banks  were 


Called  Over 


ii 


close  up  and  showed  signs  of  human  habita- 
tion. Yet  here  were  other  pagodas  of  every 
size,  their  tops  peeping  from  behind  clumps  of 
palms  or  bamboo  and  showing  boldly  white  in 
the  thickening  dusk, — every  one  a model  of  the 
father  of  them  all.  Then  the  full  realization 
stole  upon  us  that  at  last  we  were  in  “the  land 
of  pagodas.” 

It  is  a wonder  country,  is  Burma.  Once  under 
its  spell,  the  lure  of  it  is  irresistable.  With  a 
fair  share  of  the  sordid  and  the  unbeautiful 
common  to  every  heathen  land,  yet  it  seems  to 
the  traveler  different  from  others, — and  better. 

Among  the  American  missionaries  entering 
this  far  eastern  country  in  the  early  years  of  the 
present  century  were  Heber  H.  Votaw  and  his 
wife,  sent  out  by  the  Seventh-day  Adventist 
Mission  Board.  Like  Adoniram  Judson,  the 
pioneer  in  this  field,  the  Votaws  did  not  start 
for  Burma.  They  had  set  their  hearts  cn  India, 
but  God  set  their  feet  on  Burma.  And  it  was 
not  long  before  their  vital  interests  were  entirely 
wrapped  up  in  gospel  endeavor  for  the  attrac- 
tive Burmese. 

As  the  years  passed,  the  little  company  grew 
into  a church  in  Rangoon,  a parlor  meeting- 
place  into  a church  hall,  and  two  workers  in- 
creased to  six,  with  some  native  helpers.  This 


12  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

start  was  almost  wholly  among  English-speak- 
ing people.  But  the  great  Burmese  Buddhist 
population  held  out  needy  hands.  The  thou- 
sands of  simple-hearted  Karen  people  of  the 
hills  were  open  to  the  gospel  truth;  and  there 
was  no  school  for  the  children  and  youth,  the 
most  susceptible  of  all  heathen  to  the  uplift  of 
Christianity.  Slowly  the  pleading  need  of  a 
school  became  a great  burden  to  the  mission- 
aries, and  found  voice  in  earnest  prayer  to  God 
to  open  the  way.  There  was  no  fund  available 
that  might  be  tapped  to  start  new  enterprises, 
for  the  Board  was  driven  to  refusing  some  pleas 
because  of  the  many  from  the  world  field.  But 
the  school  of  their  dreams  and  prayers  did 
materialize  in  a most  providential  way,  and  this 
is  its  story. 

While  laboring  in  Rangoon,  the  Votaws 
interested  a number  of  telegraph  operators  in 
their  faith.  The  government  owns  the  tele- 
graph system  in  Burma,  and  employs  a large 
number  of  men  in  its  various  stations  over  the 
country.  When  one  of  these  operators  was  in 
the  midst  of  his  study  of  the  Bible  truths  pre- 
sented by  the  Votaws,  he  was  transferred  to 
Meiktila,  in  Upper  Burma,  a civil  and  military 
center  of  about  seven  thousand  people,  situated 
on  the  shore  of  a beautiful  lake  about  three 


Called  Over 


13 


4 

A Typical  City  Street  Scene  Showing  Indian  Servants  and  Children 


14 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


hundred  and  twenty  miles  north  of  the  metropo- 
lis. This  man  and  his  wife  began  to  tell  their 
neighbors  some  of  the  Bible  truths  they  had 
heard  in  the  city.  Two  of  these  neighbors  were 
advocates  (lawyers),  one  of  them  being  in 
government  employ  and  a man  of  wide  influence 
and  excellent  reputation. 

The  telegraph  operator  was  rather  apathetic 
then  about  the  truths  he  had  learned;  but  his 
listening  neighbors  were  anxious  to  know  more. 
So  the  missionaries  in  Rangoon  were  requested 
to  visit  them  and  teach  them  the  Bible.  The 
answering  of  this  call  provided  an  opportunity 
for  the  weary  workers  to  procure  a change  from 
the  humid,  unhealthful  atmosphere  of  Rangoon 
at  that  season  of  the  year,  to  the  much  dryer 
climate  of  Meiktila.  They  were  soon  on  the 
ground,  and  their  visit  proved  to  be  memorable. 
The  little  group  were  ere  long  rejoicing  in  the 
truth  that  moves  men’s  hearts.  A.  W.  Steevens, 
the  government  advocate,  became  an  apostle  of 
the  printed  page,  scattering  at  his  own  expense 
large  quantities  of  gospel  literature  over  the 
whole  of  the  Indian  Empire.  The  telegraph 
operator  now  fills  an  important  position  in 
Indian  mission  work. 

But,  the  school.  Among  the  acquaintances 
of  Mr.  Steevens  were  prominent  Buddhists  who 


Called  Over 


15 


were  impressed,  as  he  talked  to  them  of  his  new 
hope,  by  the  health  and  educational  phases  of 
the  gospel  the  missionaries  taught.  A training 
of  the  head,  hand,  and  heart  appealed  to  them, 
especially  that  of  the  hand,  for  they  saw  in 
this  the  hope  of  Burma.  It  is  regrettable  that 
they  did  not  have  a higher  motive  also,  but 
so  far  this  was  a step  in  the  right  direction.  The 
Burmese  people  are  losing  favor  with  the 
foreigner  because  the  Burman  as  a rule  will  not 
or  can  not  learn  the  practical  trades  of  modern 
industry.  Many  foresighted  Burmans  of  edu- 
cation and  culture  are  seeing  the  trend,  and  have 
become  alarmed. 

“We  want  technical  schools,”  they  said, 
“ where  our  boys  can  learn  trades.  If  you  see  a 
Burman  who  is  skilled  in  a practical  trade  you 
may  put  it  down  that  he  is  an  ex-convict.  A 
native  must  commit  a crime  and  be  sent  to  jail 
in  order  to  learn  a trade,  for  the  jails  and  re- 
formatories are  the  only  places  in  the  country 
where  trades  are  taught.” 

They  were  so  concerned  that  their  boys  receive 
this  all-round  education,  which  we  have  been 
more  or  less  successful  in  carrying  into  practise 
for  so  many  years  in  America,  that  they  offered 
to  help  financially  to  establish  a technical 
school.  To  make  good  their  offer  they  banded 


Beautiful  Meiktila  and  the  Lake,  from  the  Top  of  an  Old  Pagoda 


Called  Over 


17 


together,  elected  a chairman  and  a secretary  - 
treasurer,  and  started  a subscription  paper. 
In  a very  short  time  the  fund  thus  raised  grew 
to  several  hundred  rupees.  (A  rupee  is  about  a 
third  of  an  American  dollar.)  This  was  an 
unusually  bold  move,  for  the  Buddhists  generally 
are  suspicious  of  Christian  missionary  proposi- 
tions. Then  the  missionaries  were  urged  to  do 
their  part,  and  to  make  good  the  gospel  of 
symmetrical  education. 

Such  an  opening  could  not  be  ignored.  But 
with  all  the  goodwill  and  help  of  local  enthu- 
siasts, to  start  such  an  enterprise  would  involve 
great  expense  on  the  part  of  the  Mission.  And 
there  was  no  provision  in  the  budget  for  a school 
in  Burma;  and  to  all  appearances  there  was  not 
likely  to  be  for  some  time.  It  was  a perplexing 
question.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do, — 
appeal  to  the  Board  at  home  for  permission  to 
advance,  and  for  aid  for  the  promising  project. 

The  time  was  on  the  eve  of  the  General 
Conference  of  1909,  to  be  held  in  Washington, 
D.  C.  Convinced  that  a plea  for  this  school  and 
also  for  help  to  start  work  among  the  Karen 
tribes  of  the  country,  should  be  presented  in 
person  to  give  it  adequate  force,  our  pioneer, 
after  overcoming  many  obstacles  that  stood  in 
the  way,  took  passage  for  the  homeland,  and 


1 8 In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

unexpectedly  appeared  to  attend  the  session  of 
the  Conference.  He  was  given  a little  time  at  the 
close  of  the  report  from  India  to  speak  for  his 
field,  and  he  made  the  most  of  the  opportunity. 
Beginning  with  a brief  description  of  the  land 
and  the  people,  he  grew  enthusiastic  as  he  recited 
the  encouraging  progress  of  the  work,  and 
eloquent  as  he  pleaded  for  a quick  supplying  of 
Burma’s  crying  needs.  One  of  these  needs  was 
set  forth  in  a clarion  call  for  an  educator. 

“We  need  a qualified  school  man,’’  said  the 
speaker,  “one  who  has  been  educated  in  ‘the 
university  of  hard  knocks.’  Some  of  the  most 
prominent  Buddhists  of  Upper  Burma  have 
besought  us  to  start  a school  for  their  youth, 
where  manual  training  shall  be  given.  The 
mission  schools  of  other  churches  are  following 
the  government  curriculum  for  the  sake  of 
government  grants-in-aid.  So  much  is  required 
by  the  government  before  this  financial  help  is 
given,  that  the  schools  are  unable  to  give  any- 
thing like  adequate  instruction  in  Christianity. 
The  people  who  are  calling  for  us  are  willing  to 
help  to  the  best  of  their  ability  in  a financial 
way.  They  have  promised  to  work  in  every' 
way  they  can  to  make  the  school  a success. 
May  God  impress  some  strong  young  man  and 
wife  to  volunteer  for  this  work. 


Called  Over 


19 


“All  Burma  is  aquiver  today,  on  tiptoe  with 
expectancy  and  anxiety.  Since  I have  seen  the 
marvelous  manner  in  which  news  travels  there, 
I am  persuaded  that  the  gospel  can  be  quickly 
given.  It  is  a matter  of  continual  wonder  to 
us  how  rapidly  events  of  all  sorts  become  known 
to  those  illiterate  millions.  But  one  thing  that  I 
have  ever  seen  seems  to  me  to  be  a fit  illustration 
of  the  swiftness  with  which  the  knowledge  of 
the  happenings  of  the  day  is  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth.  How  distinctly  I remember  that  day 
years  ago  when  with  blanched  faces  the  dwellers 
in  a little  frame  house,  set  far  out  on  the  prairie, 
began  to  labor  with  eager,  feverish  haste  to 
protect  their  home  from  the  dreaded  prairie 
fire.  But  the  rolling,  bounding  flames  gave  little 
time.  They  were  driven  by  the  wind,  and  what 
was  the  puny  work  of  man  to  stop  them!  And 
Christ  has  compared  the  workings  of  his  Spirit 
to  the  blowing  of  the  wind.  So  when  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  of  hosts  has  breathed  upon  his 
people  and  the  nations,  I am  sure  that  the  gospel 
will  sweep  across  India  and  Burma  with  mighty 
triumph,  burning  away  every  barrier  which 
Satan  has  erected  to  stay  its  progress.  Let  us 
be  ready  against  that  day.” 

The  writer  of  these  lines  sat  within  the  sound 
of  that  summons  to  achievement  for  God  in  the 


20 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


foreign  field, — sat  all  tense  with  the  gripping 
entreaty  of  it  And  his  heart  had  no  other 
answer  than,  “Send  me.” 

So  a few  months  later  found  us  about  to  enter 
the  gate  of  “the  land  of  pagodas.”  And  as  we 
strode  down  the  gangplank  into  the  rabble  of 
coolies,  and  trod  the  historic  soil  where  many  a 
missionary  hero  and  heroine  lived  and  worked 
and  died,  we  were  exceeding  glad  for  what  the 
future  held  in  store.  Nothing  exceeds  the  ardor 
of  youth  in  the  face  of  Christian  service. 

In  the  narrative  and  description  which  follow 
we  record  experiences  as  they  came  to  us.  Our 
way  led  through  the  port  of  entry;  into  direct 
touch  with  the  cosmopolitan  crowd  with  its 
strange  dress,  customs,  and  religions;  on  up 
country  to  the  scene  of  our  labors,  deep  into  the 
intricacies  of  the  languages  and  mission  prob- 
lems; through  struggles,  sickness,  disappoint- 
ments; to  overweights  of  joy  in  hearts  won  for 
Christ.  We  invite  the  reader  to  wonder  with  us 
at  the  strange  and  curious,  reflect  our  smiles  at 
the  amusing,  share  with  us  our  depression  when 
the  clouds  hung  low,  and  joy  in  our  fruition 
when  the  tasks  were  finished. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  GATE 

THE  giant  Irrawaddy  washed  a hundred 
soils  from  remote  banks,  and  east  them 
mixed  mud  at  its  mouth.  In  this  mud 
men  laid  the  foundations  of  Rangoon.  The 
races  which  swarm  over  the  city  are  as  varied 
and  blended  and  plastic  as  the  mud  on  which 
it  stands.  A city  cosmopolitan  indeed  is  this. 
Other  cities  may  have  all  the  other  species  of 
mankind,  but  they  lack  the  picturesque  Burman, 
for  he  is  a home  body.  Rangoon  has  all  races, 
to  the  extent  of  almost  crowding  out  the  sons 
of  the  soil.  The  sights  and  sounds  and  smells  of 
both  worlds  here  mingle  in  bewildering  disorder. 

The  gold,  silver,  precious  stones,  and  silks, 
which  in  other  nations  are  hoarded  and  hid,  are 
in  this  nation  spread  to  the  gaze  of  the  throng. 
And  the  greedy,  the  thrifty,  and  the  industrious 
of  all  climes  flock  to  the  golden  show  for  a part 
in  the  division  of  the  spoil.  The  laughing,  care- 
free people  view  with  equanimity  their  glory 
flow  into  the  coffers  of  strangers,  and  Burma 


21 


An  Attractive  Kangoon  HtiMineas  Street  with  Burinunt*  to  the  Front 


The  Gate 


23 


complacently  surrenders  her  wealth-right  to 
the  passer-by. 

The  immigrants  land  at  the  port  of  Rangoon, 
and  many  of  them  stick  there  and  cast  their  lot 
with  the  common  run.  They  have  come  to  a 
land  of  opportunity  compared  with  other  coun- 
tries of  the  East.  For  here  are  fertile  soils,  rich 
minerals,  and  abundance  of  trade,  with  no  fate- 
ful caste  system  as  in  India,  no  unsettling 
revolutions  as  in  China,  no  burdensome  taxes  as 
in  Japan.  But  do  not  mistake.  The  country 
is  not  rich  in  the  real  sense.  What  is  here, 
however,  is  all  on  the  surface,  as  far  as  the 
Burman  is  concerned.  He  doesn’t  put  his 
wealth  in  a stocking — no  napkined  talents  for 
him.  It  goes  into  his  stomach  and  onto  his 
back.  But  he  leads  the  simple  life,  and  is  happy, 
so  happy!  After  all,  what  do  those  who  hoard 
desire  more  than  this? 

Rangoon  is  not  Burma.  First  it  is  India,  then 
China,  then  all  the  Orient,  then  Europe  and 
America.  The  Burmese  are  its  ornaments;  and 
their  towering  golden  pagoda,  the  attractive 
feature  of  many  a beautiful  vista,  represents  a 
people  and  a religion  which  are  fast  weakening 
under  the  influences  of  the  spirit  of  the  West. 

Shall  we  “see  the  sights”?  The  very  modern 
electric  qar  on  which  we  ride  takes  the  corner 


24 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


with  a shriek  as  we  turn  into  Dalhousie  Street. 
The  stone  pavement  is  just  ceasing  to  throw 
back  the  sun’s  glare.  It  now  steams  in  its 
Turkish  bath  as  the  water-carriers  muddy  its 
back.  Our  conveyance  seems  strangely  out  of 
place  among  the  primitive  men  and  methods. 
Look  at  the  motor-man  on  our  car.  He  wears  a 
semi-European  suit  of  dark  green  cloth,  of  the 
pea-jacket,  high-water  variety,  bounded  below 
by  bare  feet  and  above  by  long  oily  hair,  roughly 
done  up,  turnip  shape,  under  a little  red  fez. 
The  man  who  collects  fares  is,  like  the  other,  a 
native  of  India,  and  is  dressed  identically  the 
same.  He  is  just  learning  to  count  money,  and 
may  shortchange  us;  but  never  mind,  the 
passengers  are  only  too  willing  to  help  him. 
The  car  company  should  not  lose  by  his  ignor- 
ance, for  at  his  elbow  is  a subinspector;  and 
soon  an  inspector  will  cast  his  critical  eye  on 
him  and  us,  and  in  turn  will  cower  before  the 
chief  inspector.  These  inspectors  ride  at  inter- 
vals on  all  cars,  and  watch  with  eagle  eyes. 
Our  tickets  are  punched  and  punched  and 
punched.  While  we  are  trying  to  recall  some 
lines  about  “other  fleas  to  bite  ’em,”  the  gong 
clangs  loudly,  and  we  peer  ahead  to  see  three 
stalwart  coolies  making  frantic  but  slow  efforts 
to  tug  their  high-wheeled,  heavily  loaded  cart 


The  Gate 


off  the  track.  A line  of  shoulder-pole  carriers 
string  by  with  their  labored  swing,  taking  rice 
from  the  wharf  to  the  warehouse,  where  the 
sign,  “All  kinds,  good  rice,  cheaply,  for  sale,’' 
does  its  duty  in  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
English-speaking  public. 

Farther  on,  the  wide  street  presents  an  un- 
broken mass  of  conglomerate  humanity.  Bur- 
mese women  gossip  at  the  house  doors,  while 
their  children  dodge  among  the  crowds  afoot. 
Chinese  workman,  plying  any  and  every  trade, 
sit  cross-legged  on  the  sidewalk  or  at  their 
shop  fronts.  The  curb  is  lined  with  various 
business  contrivances  dignified  by  the  name  of 
shop,  from  a little  basket  at  a corner,  with  a 
woman  squatting  behind  it,  to  the  Chinese 
restaurant-keeper,  with  his  long  table,  furnace, 
cooks,  and  waiters,  serving  eatables  by  wholesale. 

Beyond  the  curb,  confusion  inextricable — 
cars,  bicycles,  motors,  carts,  carriages,  rick- 
shaws, and  luckless  pedestrians — where  a colli- 
sion means  a fight  and  a miss  is  good  for  a 
smile.  In  the  center,  at  cross  streets,  towers  a 
turbaned  Punjabi  policeman — supposed  to  pre- 
serve order.  His  huge  stature  and  dignified 
demeanor  give  him  immunity  from  danger;  and 
there  he  poses,  well-nigh  oblivious  to  all  that 
chatters  and  clatters  past. 


26  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Bamboo  Scaffolding  to  Give  the  Big  Pagoda  a New  Coat  of  Gold  Leaf 


The  Gate 


27 


The  evening  is  the  joy-time  of  the  day,  and 
each  one  takes  his  “constitutional”  as  suits  him 
best.  But  what  a multitude  there  is!  One 
writer  has  called  them  “food  for  census,”  and 
that  idea  presses  in  upon  us  in  spite  of  our 
efforts  at  singling  out  a few.  They  are  lumped 
off  in  the  mass,  like  so  many  clods  of  earth, — 
different,  but  who  cares?  Yet  each  one  has  an 
individuality — and  a soul. 

This  is  where  the  “other  half  lives”;  it  would 
require  volumes  to  tell  how  they  live.  Even 
those  who  have  been  long  on  the  ground  some- 
times wonder  whether  they  know  the  people  or 
not.  In  the  turmoil  of  the  seething  millions  of 
the  East,  one  sees  the  crowd,  but  it  is  difficult 
to  see  one.  At  every  dwelling  it  seems  as  if 
all  the  folk  are  at  home,  and  relatives  and 
friends  are  visiting  them. 

We  alight  and  meander  through  the  “night 
bazaar.”  Scores  of  temporary  stalls  pack  the 
curb  of  the  wide  sidewalks,  and  the  night  is 
aglare  with  gaudy  lights.  Here  is  great  assort- 
ment, from  pins  and  peanuts  to  beds  and 
blankets.  This  fellow  with  the  file-rasping 
voice  makes  our  passing  hideous  with  “Ek 
rupaya  kamal,  ehay  paisa,  chay  paisa,  ehay 
paisa!”  (“A  thing  worth  32  cents  for  three 
cents,”  a tricky  appeal  to  the  gambling  in- 


28 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


stinct  of  the  Burman).  This  is  the  time  and  the 
place  to  palm  off  the  defective  and  tinseled 
articles  whose  defects  are  unnoticed,  and  whose 
tinsel  shows  golden  in  the  glaring  light.  We 
know  this,  yet  we  are  drawn  on  by  a lure  in- 
explainable  to  see  what  is  not  worth  seeing,  and 
to  buy  what  we  do  not  want.  A week  ago  we 
asked  at  one  stall  for  a towel,  and — it  must 
have  been  published  in  a newspaper  which  all 
read,  with  our  likenesses  attached — now  towels 
are  thrust  at  us  at  every  turn  all  along  the  line. 
Towels  call  us,  towels  spread  before  us,  towels 
flap  in  our  faces,  towels  shout  after  us.  But 
there  is  method  is  this.  For  we  buy,  and  why? 
— to  distract  attention,  or  to  satisfy  onlookers 
that  we  use  such  articles,  or  to  show  that  we 
have  the  money?  It  may  be  for  any  of  these 
reasons  more  than  because  we  really  need  the 
towel.  With  half  disgust  we  turn  away,  and 
wish  not  to  look  at  a towel  for  a week.  Yet 
we  are  not  to  be  let  off,  for  soap  and  brushes 
must  needs  go  with  a towel,  and  these  are 
urged  at  below-cost  prices.  We  are  led  to  believe 
that  the  motto  of  these  men  must  be,  “Per- 
sistency, thou  art  a jewel.’’  There  is  an  end, 
however;  and  at  last  we  extricate  ourselves, 
and  the  gloom  envelops  us  as  we  start  for 
home. 


The  Gate 


2Q 


The  morning  draws  us  to  the  bazaar  for  the 
day’s  food  supply.  Most  of  the  shop-men  are 
Indians,  not  Burmans;  and  of  the  few  Burmans 
nearly  all  are  women.  A dozen  boy  coolies,  with 
baskets,  surround  us  away  up  the  street.  We 
select  one  lank  fellow  with  a smile,  a good 
knowledge  of  prices,  and  a poor  knowledge  of 
English.  A friend  had  an  amusing  experience 
with  one  of  these  “basket  wallahs.”  They 
often  use  English  in  the  idiom  of  their  own 
language.  With  them  there  is  no  difference  in 
the  way  they  say  “ too  much  ” and  “ very  much.  ” 
This  boy  said  that  what  the  sahib  was  buying 
was  “too  nice.”  My  friend  told  him  that 
“too  nice”  means  nicer  than  it  should  be,  and 
that  it  really  couldn’t  be  “too  nice.”  “Well,” 
returned  the  boy,  “One  nice,  then.” 

Did  you  ever  bargain?  I mean,  juggle  prices 
with  a merchant.  If  you  haven’t,  you  have 
missed — shall  I say  a joy?  There  are  few  one- 
price  dealers  here.  A native’s  asking  price  is 
not  his  selling  price;  and  usually  the  latter  is 
one-fourth  or  one-third  of  the  former.  It  is  a 
habit  that  many  of  them  would  gladly  break 
away  from;  but,  like  the  tipping  habit, 
it  sticks.  Says  the  shopkeeper:  “What  can 
do,  sir?  Master  asking  price,  sir.  If  I say 
proper  price,  sir,  Master  no  buy.  Master  ex- 


jo  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

pects  less,  sir.  If  no  sell  for  less,  sir,  no  can 
sell,  sir.  ” 

To  beat  a man  down  in  his  price  is  always 
a necessity,  and  never  a hardship  for  the  man; 
for,  unless  the  buyer  knows  the  right  price,  the 
crafty  merchant  is  sure  to  get  more  than  the 
article  is  worth.  And  if  you  do  not  know  the 
price,  he  is  a sharp  enough  student  of  human 
nature  to  find  it  out,  in  spite  of  evasive  ques- 
tions and  answers.  Every  purchase  involves  a 
battle  of  wits.  At  first  the  newcomer  finds 
it  difficult,  but  later  it  changes  to  a pleasurable 
habit  which  holds  such  a fascination  that  one 
actually  wonders  if  ever  he  can  feel  satisfied 
to  buy  from  a merchant  who  will  not  lower 
his  price.  But  before  the  trick  is  learned,  the 
novice  has  many  a crestfallen  experience  of 
seeming  to  triumph  at  a low  figure,  and  later 
finding  he  has  paid  two  prices  for  his  purchase. 
This  is  the  usual  haggle: — 

“What’s  the  price  of  these  guavas?” 

“Ten  for  six  annas,  sahib.” 

“What?  Say,  if  I wanted  to  get  rich,  I’d 
start  a shop  here  and  rob  people  as  you  do. 
Tell  the  proper  price.  I’ll  give  you  two  annas.  ” 
“Nay,  sahib,  nay,”  laughing,  “Five  annas 
proper  price.” 

“Will  you  take  two  annas?” 


The  Gate 


3i 


A View  Among;  the  Royal  Lakes,  with  Shwe  Dagon  in  the  Distance 


32 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


“Nay,  sahib,  cost  four  annas.’’ 

“No,  they  don’t;  you  know  you  can  buy  them 
for  one  anna.” 

You  start  away,  and  he  says,  “Four  annas, 
sahib,  and  no  profit.”  You  continue,  and  he 
shouts  for  you  to  come  back  at  four  annas. 
You  call  that  you  will  give  three  annas.  He 
refuses,  but  when  you  are  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing he  sends  a boy  running  after  you  to  accept 
your  three  annas.  Of  course  you  return  and  pay 
the  three  annas,  and  perhaps  are  discomfited  to 
see  him  chuckle  at  the  prospect  of  a good  profit. 
But  if  you  win  there  is  a fascination  about  it, 
because  it  brings  a consciousness  of  superiority. 

The  bazaar  is  huge,  and  offers  for  sale  almost 
every  article  which  the  East  and  West  produce. 
Prices  range  widely,  from  trivial  eatables  which 
are  almost  as  cheap  as  the  handful  of  earth 
from  which  they  grew,  to  fancy  tinned  and 
bottled  imported  stuffs.  We  hold  our  noses 
while  passing  through  the  meat  and  fish  depart- 
ments, sneeze  in  the  spice-room,  and  are  prodigal 
with  our  eyes  among  the  silks.  All  this  is 
sordid,  but  it  is  Rangoon. 

Another  day  we  break  away  and  breathe  free 
at  the  Royal  Lakes  Park.  This  beautiful  re- 
treat provides  the  lungs  of  the  city.  In  the 
rainy  season  the  gentle  slopes  are  a lavish 


The  Gate 


33 


green,  but  the  dry  season  sees  hosts  of  coolies 
deluging  them  in  a vain  effort  to  coax  the 
dying  year  into  a “green  old  age.”  The  roads 
hum  to  the  tune  of  the  motor-car,  and  happy 
picnicing  children  sport  in  the  groves.  The 
golden  crown  of  the  view  is  the  towering  sharp- 
ness of  the  Shwe  Dagon  Pagoda,  its  sleek 
descent  throwing  back  a dazzling  glitter  to  the 
tropic  sun. 

Rangoon  contains  only  a quarter-million  peo- 
ple, but  all  these  are  in  evidence.  The  English 
rulers,  comfortably  parked  in  their  own  section, 
sway  the  fortunes  of  Burma’s  metropolis  with 
beneficent  justice.  The  strongest  and  lowest 
passions  of  thousands  of  debased  human  beings 
here  find  vent ; but  storms  are  brief,  and  Oriental 
lethargyr  binds  all  minds  in  a magical  spell, 
whose  power  Occidental  minds  sense,  but  will 
always  stop  short  of  experiencing. 


2 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


One  of  the  Ways  up  the  Hill  to  the  Pagod; 


Chapter  III 

THE  WAY  IN 


THE  way  into  Buraia  is  among  the  pagodas; 
and  the  way  into  the  heart  and  mind  of 
a Burman  is  through  an  understanding  of 
the  point  of  view  of  the  religion  of  the  pagodas, 
— Buddhism.  A tarrying  in  Rangoon  means  a 
visit  to  the  great  pagoda  that  overtops  the  city 
and  appears  in  the  distance  of  every  beautiful 
view  which  the  port  affords.  The  first  sight  of 
it  from  far  down  the  river  is  a more  than  suffi- 
cient stimulus  to  closer  investigation. 

We  started  for  the  noted  shrine  armed 
with  a wealth  of  curiosity  to  learn  all  we  could 
about  Buddhism  in  general  and  pagodas  in 
particular — and  we  returned  satisfied.  A friendly 
Burmese  guide  to  accompany  us,  and  a willing- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  caretakers  of  the  place 
to  impart  information,  supplied  an  answer  to 
evety  question  that  arose.  We  shall  take  oc- 
casion to  introduce  our  readers  to  the  heart  of 
Buddhism  as  we  proceed. 

Alighting  from  a car  at  the  foot  of  the  steep- 


j6  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

sloping  artificial  hill,  we  were  at  once  awed  by 
two  gigantic  images  of  lion-like  animals  with 
gaping  mouths,  which  sat  on  their  haunches  on 
either  side  of  the  stairway.  But  some  Burmese 
boys  playing  gleefully  on  the  toes  of  the  huge 
beasts  tended  to  reassure  us.  Like  Bunyan’s 
pilgrim,  we  were  soon  past  the  lions  in  the  way, 
and  climbing  the  broad  stone  steps,  hallowed — 
yes,  and  hollowed — by  the  patter  of  many  de- 
voted feet. 

The  ascent  is  tiresome,  but  not  without  di- 
version. We  may  buy  candles,  flowers,  toys, 
gold  leaf,  and  trinkets  of  all  sorts  at  the  booths 
that  flank  the  upper  steps;  or  we  may  rest  on 
some  crude  seats  and  look  out  over  the  city; 
but  we  hasten  on  to  the  top,  for  there  is  much 
to  see,  and  tell. 

The  last  step  upward  discovers  a level  plateau 
about  the  size  of  a city  block,  with  the  tall 
Shwe  Dagon  in  its  center.  Around  the  base  of 
the  immense  tower  is  a paved  circle,  somewhat 
irregular,  and  hemming  this  in  on  all  sides  are 
structures  of  every  conceivable  shape  and  na- 
ture,— scores  of  little  pagodas,  roofed-over 
shrines,  images  in  barred  cages,  rest  houses, 
flower  and  trinket  shops,  bells,  platforms,  poles, 
pillars,  glass  cases  with  relics,  decorations  in 
endless  variety — all  in  the  utmost  disorder  as  to 


The  Way  In 


37 


Among  the 
Mountains 
of  Burma 


Pagodas 
Built  on 
Famous 
Balanced 
Rocks  — 


38  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

arrangement.  It  looks  as  if  every  particular 
ornament  had  been  erected  by  a separate  person 
and  each  had  placed  his  where  it  suited  him 
best.  The  meaning  of  all  these  will  become 
more  evident  as  we  delve  into  the  mysteries  of 
the  religion. 

Now  a pagoda  is  a pile  of  rice  with  a lotus 
bud  stuck  in  the  peak  of  it. 

At  least  it  is  said  that  is  how  the  idea  of  its 
form  originated.  Whatever  its  fashion  in  other 
Buddhist  lands,  this  is  its  characteristic  contour 
in  the  land  of  pagodas.  It  is  round,  large  at  the 
base  and  small  at  the  top,  ending  in  a point. 
The  sides  curve  inward  and  are  not  smooth,  but 
rise  in  irregular  swells,  or  “collars.”  And  just 
below  the  top  is  a bulge,  the  lotus-bud  effect. 
At  the  very  apex  a htee  (umbrella)  is  fixed,  which 
has  the  shape  of  an  ordinary  parasol  one-fourth 
open,  and  is  usually  made  of  metal  plated  with 
gilt  or  gold.  The  edges  of  the  htee  have  dangling 
from  them  little  bells  or  pieces  of  metal  and 
glass,  and  these  tinkle  musically  in  the  pass- 
ing breeze. 

But  what  is  a pagoda,  and  what  is  it  for? 
It  isn’t  a church  or  a temple,  for  it  is  solid 
throughout,  and  thus  there  is  no  going  into  it. 
It  isn’t  a tomb,  like  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  for 
no  one  is  buried  under  it.  It  isn’t  a monument 


The  Way  In  jg 

to  commemorate  some  event,  although  some 
famous  pagodas  hark  back  to  some  legendary 
event  for  the  purpose  of  their  founding.  Nor 
are  the  pagodas,  except  in  very  rare  cases,  built 
in  memory  of  a man,  although  individual  men 
and  families  often  erect  them.  They  are  not 
limited  to  number,  for  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
them  encumber  the  land;  nor  to  place,  for  they 
obtrude  into  every  vista  and  are  found  every- 
where, from  the  shelf  behind  the  door  or  in  a 
man’s  pocket  to  the  top  of  the  highest  hill  and 
on  well-nigh  inaccessible  rocks  in  the  mountains ; 
nor  to  size,  for  they  vary  from  watchcharms  to 
the  gigantic  Shwe  Dagon,  reaching  370  feet 
above  its  platform  of  166  feet. 

A pagoda  is  a shrine,  erected  originally  over 
sacred  relics,  such  as  a hair  or  a tooth  of  Gautama 
the  Good  (Buddha)  of  far  renown ; or  it  may  be 
built  over  images  or  books  inclosed  in  a chamber 
in  the  center  of  the  foundation.  As  there  are 
not  enough  relics  to  supply  the  large  number  of 
pagodas  built,  imitations  of  real  relics  are  put 
in.  Every  village  has  at  least  one  pagoda,  and 
in  many  villages  there  is  a group  of  them,  in 
all  stages  of  decay.  This  is  the  sacred  center, 
and  here  the  faithful  assemble  for  the  various 
religious  duties.  The  word  pagoda  is  not  used 
by  the  Burmans,  for  the  people  call  the  struc- 
ture paya  (lord). 


40 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Pagodas  Everywhere 

Each  of  these  unique  shrines  was  built  by  some 
man  or  group  of  men  to  get  merit.  It  is  the 
most  meritorious  act  that  can  possibly  be  per- 


The  Way  In 


4i 


formed,  and  insures  the  builder  at  his  death  an 
immediate  entrance  into  the  highest  form  of 
heavenly  rest.  Hence  the  large  number  of 
pagodas.  The  merit  is  granted  according  to 
the  goodness  of  the  one  to  whom  the  pagoda 
is  dedicated,  and  not  according  to  the  character 
of  the  builder.  So  rich  men  who  can  build  big 
get  the  most  merit,  regardless  of  their  char- 
acters. No  merit  accrues  to  anyone  who 
repairs  a pagoda,  except  those  of  great  note, 
repair-merit  going  to  the  original  builder.  Con- 
sequently there  is  little  repairing  done,  thou- 
sands of  the  structures  are  in  ruins,  and  new 
ones  are  being  built  all  the  time.  They  cumber 
the  ground  in  the  crowded  land;  and  sometimes 
when  no  one  is  looking  a sacreligious  farmer 
does  not  hesitate  to  topple  a small  one  over  and 
put  the  ground  into  crops.  The  material  of 
their  building  is  flat  bricks  and  mortar.  The 
whole  is  plastered  on  the  outside  and  covered 
with  whitewash  or  gold  leaf,  according  to  the 
affluence  of  the  giver.  However,  since  but  few 
ruins  are  ever  removed,  besides  being  a land  of 
pagodas,  Burma  is  a land  of  brush-covered 
brick  piles. 

Perhaps  even  more  numerous,  but  less  con- 
spicuous, than  the  pagodas  are  the  myriad 
images  of  Buddha  seen  everywhere  throughout 


42 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


the  country.  The  manufacture  of  these  idols  is 
a recognized  craft,  and  excellent  indeed  is  the 
workmanship  displayed  on  many  of  them. 
Sculptured  in  alabaster  and  marble,  or  moulded 
in  shining  brass,  they  are  things  of  beauty  com- 
pared with  the  hideous  gods  of  Hinduism. 

You  may  have  a Buddha  of  pocket-size  at  a pit- 
tance of  a price ; or  may  make  a pilgrimage  to  a 
famous  shrine  and  gaze  with  awe  at  an  enormous 


A Land  of  Brush-covered  Brick  Piles 

likeness  of  Gautama  the  Good  towering  many 
feet  into  the  air.  Clustered  about  the  feet  of 
pagodas,  housed  under  little  roofs  at  the  road- 
side, and  perched  in  the  recesses  of  the  hills, — - 
from  every  corner  images  of  the  famous  hero  of 


The  Way  In  43 

righteousness  look  out  upon  the  world  with 
serene  apathy. 

The  image-maker  may  not  try  his  skill  in 
varying  the  form  and  features  of  his  product. 
Every  Buddha  looks  just  as  nearly  like  all  the 
others  as  expert  imitators  can  make  it.  The 
figure  sits  tailor  fashion,  with  the  sole  of  one 
foot  turned  upward.  The  long-fingered  hands 
rest  quietly  on  the  lap.  The  body  is  draped  in 
a plain  priestly  robe  with  a sort  of  turban  for 
a head  covering.  The  lobes  of  the  ears  reach 
to  the  shoulders. 

There  are  a few  noted  exceptions  to  the 
conventional  seated  image,  the  most  widely 
known  being  the  standing  Buddhas  of  Pagan 
and  the  huge  reclining  Buddha  of  Pegu.  The 
latter  dates  from  ancient  times,  and  for  many 
years  it  seems  to  have  been  lost  even  to  the 
Burmans  themselves,  big  as  it  is.  It  was  found 
accidentally  while  engineers  were  prospecting  for 
a railroad.  The  undergrowth  covering  it  was 
removed,  and  now  it  can  be  seen  from  the  train 
as  it  sleepily  smiles  on  the  passer-by.  It  is 
known  as  the  dying  Buddha,  and  is  said  to  be 
the  largest  statue  of  a human  being  in  the 
world,  measuring  180  feet  long  and  46  feet 
high  at  the  shoulders.  Several  persons  might 
comfortably  sleep  on  its  ear  lobes. 


44 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


The  Way  In 


45 


The  faces  of  these  Buddhas  naturally  draw 
attention.  Plainly  Mongolian  in  form,  the 
features  are  pasty  and  expressionless.  Yet 
there  is  a beatific,  half-serious,  half-smirky  smile 
that  rests  about  the  mouth  which  impresses 
the  stranger  that  the  original  was  very  con- 
scious of  a passive,  meditative  goodness  within. 
There  is  nothing  that  is  repulsive  about  the 
whole  figure,  a little  that  is  admirable,  and 
much  that  is  weak.  It  is  meant  to  show  the 
saint  in  deep  contemplation  of  great  good. 

Such  was  the  posture  and  benign  look  of  the 
divinely-human  Gautama,  according  to  tra- 
dition ; and  in  imitation  of  his  serenity  his  fol- 
lowers today  longingly  seek  the  greatest  peace 
of  heart  possible  to  mankind.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  his  constant  worshipers  grow  to  look  like 
him,  and  that  the  peaceful  Burmese  face  is  a 
picture  of  the  hero  of  Burma’s  religion? 

Burmese  people  dearly  love  bells,  and  no 
religious  center  is  without  them.  They  tinkle 
and  ring  and  boom  as  wind  or  worshiper  supply 
them  power.  They  range  in  size  from  the  tiny 
silver  ones  on  the  fringes  of  the  pagoda  htees 
to  the  enormous  Mengon  bell,  second  in  size 
in  the  world  and  the  largest  suspended  bell 
known. 

The  bells  of  Burma  are  not  cast  in  such 


46 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


beautiful  curves  as  the  ones  the  Westerner 
makes,  but  they  send  forth  sweet  tones.  The  big 
ones  are  not  set  high  in  towers,  nor  do  they  have 
clappers  dangling  from  their  centers.  They  are 
suspended  within  reach  of  all,  and  a mallet  is 
usually  provided  for  the  tapping.  All  bells  are 
consecrated  to  religion,  and  are  used  for  no 
other  purpose. 

Surely  it  must  be  that  the  devotees  of  Guatama 
need  to  be  called  often  and  insistently  to  wor- 
ship, seeing  that  there  are  so  many  bells.  But 
not  so;  for  the  Buddhist  must  come  to  his  wor- 
ship, if  he  comes  at  all,  without  being  called. 
He  knows  his  duty  and  after  he  has  said  his 
prayer  and  given  his  offering  he  proceeds  to 
tap  the  bells  to  call  the  attention  of  the  good 
spirits  to  what  he  has  done.  We  visitors  often 
took  a hand  in  hammering  on  the  bells,  for  the 
more  they  are  rung  the  better,  no  matter  who 
does  the  tapping.  However,  in  the  case  of  the 
largest  ones  a curious  investigator  concludes 
that  a steam  hammer  would  be  required  to  bring 
a sound  from  them, — especially  the  famous  one 
at  Mengon. 

Buddhism  is  kept  alive  by  the  pongyis,  or 
priests,  and  the  foreigner  in  Burma  is  impressed 
that  there  are  enough  of  them.  Pongyis  are  the 
members  of  a religious  order  who  have  given 


The  Way  In 


47 


The  Famous  Dying  Buddha  of  Pegu 


themselves  as  followers  of  the  lord  Buddha  in 
seeking  a perfect  life.  In  the  large  cities  they 


48 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


number  into  the  thousands,  and  even  the 
smallest  village  has  its  collection  of  yellow- 
robed,  shaven-headed  figures  living  on  the  hospi- 
tality of  the  people.  Their  dull  dress  represents 
the  rags  of  poverty  and  the  individual  pongyi 
can  possess  nothing,  not  even  the  smallest  coin, 
though  his  order  may  be  increased  with  goods. 

The  pongyis  are  not  ministers  in  any  sense. 
It  is  not  at  all  their  business  to  help  others, 
either  bodily  or  spiritually.  Cutting  them- 
selves off  from  the  world  by  poverty,  celibacy, 
and  idleness,  they  spend  their  time  concentrat- 
ing their  minds  on  supreme  righteousness.  They 
confer  a great  favor  on  the  mourners  by  attend- 
ing a funeral,  and  they  give  opportunity  to  all  to 
gain  special  merit  in  religion  as  they  go  about 
from  door  to  door  with  their  begging  bowls  and 
allow  the  people  to  put  food  therein.  Does  the 
foreigner  say  they  beg?  They  no  more  beg 
than  a bank  president  begs  who  saves  your 
money  for  you. 

There  is  much  good  to  be  seen  in  the  pongyis, 
for  they  are  in  the  main  pure,  and  hold  strictly 
to  their  vows.  They  inculcate  charity  and 
hospitality  in  the  people,  and  maintain  a com- 
mendable peace  of  mind  in  an  otherwise  heed- 
less and  headlong  generation. 

Be  it  known  that  all  Buddhist  males  are  at 


The  Way  In 


40 


some  time  consecrated  to  the  priesthood,  but 
most  of  them  do  not  go  on  to  become  pongyis  in 
reality.  Those  who  continue  in  the  sacred  work 
are  too  likely  to  be  of  the  lazy  sort  who  prefer 
idleness  to  an  active  life.  Yet  they  make  some 
remarkable  sacrifices.  They  live  in  monasteries 
called  kyaungs  situated  near  the  pagoda  centers 
and  apart  from  the  dwellings  of  the  common 
people.  These  monasteries  are  the  most  elabo- 
rate and  costly  buildings  in  the  community ; but 
withal  the  pongyi  lives  the  simple  life. 

Cleared  of  vague  philosophies  and  disputed 
points  here  is  the  story  of  Buddhism: 

Many  centuries  ago  a young  prince  in  India, 
named  Gautama,  became  suddenly  aware  that 
this  world  is  full  of  death,  disease,  and  suffering. 
He  had  been  shielded  by  his  parents  from  viewing 
anything  that  would  cause  him  pain  of  heart, 
until  he  was  a young  man.  Then  on  a ride 
through  the  country  he  saw  human  sufferings  as 
only  India  can  show  it.  Thereupon  he  left  his 
home  and  riches  and  started  out  to  find  a cure 
for  the  troubles  of  existence.  After  years  of 
solitary  meditation  he  is  said  to  have  found  the 
secret  of  life  and  the  one  method  of  gaining 
supreme  happiness.  He  took  the  title  of  Buddha 
(lord)  and  went  forth  gathering  disciples  and 
teaching  his  belief.  Being  purer  than  Hinduism, 


50  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

Buddhism  spread  throughout  India  and  gained 
millions  of  adherents.  But  later  it  was  driven 
out  of  the  Indian  peninsula,  seeming  better 
suited  to  the  Mongolian  peoples  to  the  east  and 
north.  Now  it  flourishes  in  Burma,  Siam, 
China,  and  Japan. 

Gautama  did  not  claim,  nor  is  it  claimed  for 
him,  that  he  is  or  was  a god.  He  simply  found 
the  way  for  human  beings  to  reach  peace  of  soul 
and  reached  it  himself.  Buddhists  claim  that 
he  is  not  worshiped  as  a god,  and  although  there 
are  millions  of  images  of  him,  and  people  wor- 
ship before  them,  it  is  said  that  this  is  no  more 
idolatry  than  is  our  worshiping  in  the  presence 
of  the  picture  of  Christ  on  our  church  walls 
or  windows. 

Everyone  naturally  wants  to  know  what 
Gautama’s  secret  of  life  and  happiness  is.  In 
short,  it  may  be  expressed  thus:  Peace  and 
happiness  are  found  in  long-continued  and 
intense  contemplation  of  good.  That  is,  if  you 
would  be  happy,  go  apart  from  other  men  and 
do  nothing  but  think  about  and  desire  righteous- 
ness till  you  become  righteous.  The  Christian 
knows  that  the  world  has  tried  this  plan  many 
times  in  its  history,  and  has  found  it  wanting. 

Gautama  taught  that  all  living  things  are  on  a 
series  of  steps,  the  highest  forms  above  and  the 


The  Way  In 


5i 


A Group  of  the  Priestly  Class,  Showing  Three  Stages  in  the 
Development  of  its  Members 


lowest,  below.  Every  human  being  is  born  ^ 
somewhere  on  this  ladder  of  existence.  In- 
separably connected  with  existence  is  pain. 


52  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

The  lower  orders  suffer  most,  the  higher  orders 
least,  and  the  only  way  to  be  free  from  pain  is  to 
cease  to  exist,  that  is,  to  keep  on  ascending  the 
ladder  till  the  top  is  reached.  The  state  into 
which  one  enters  at  the  top  of  the  ladder  is 
called  Neikban.  Yet  the  Buddhist  says  that 
this  ceasing  to  exist  is  not  annihilation.  In  fact, 
it  is  difficult  for  anyone  to  explain  just  what  it  is. 
This  is  the  way  one  writer  describes  it: 

“ He  falls  into  a calm  and  never-ending  cessa- 
tion of  existence.  He  knows  nothing  of  others, 
nor  of  the  world,  and  so  is  a stranger  to  all 
feelings  of  joy  and  sorrow.  He  contemplates 
fixedly  the  abstract  truth.  He  remains  per- 
petually in  a sacred  calm,  unmoved  by  any 
feeling  whatever,  in  lifeless,  timeless  bliss.” 
This  is  the  Buddhist’s  ideal  of  heaven,  but  to 
the  Christian  it  does  not  appeal  as  being  de- 
sirable. 

The  lower  steps  of  existence  are  terrible  hells 
in  which  men  suffer  the  most  awful  tortures. 
The  teaching  is  that  everyone  has  many  lives, 
and  at  the  end  of  each  life  they  are  immediately 
born  into  a lower  or  higher  order  of  existence, 
according  as  they  are  bad  or  good.  This  trans- 
migration of  souls  is  a strong  belief.  Burmese 
nursery  tales  and  schoolbook  stories  are  many 
of  them  based  on  the  idea.  One  such  reads 
somewhat  like  this: 


The  Way  In 


■53 


Once  upon  a time  a school  master  was  out 
walking  with  his  pupils,  and  they  came  to  where 
a herd  of  goats  was  feeding.  There  was  one  goat 
that  seemed  to  be  the  leader  of  the  herd ; and 
the  boys  asked  their  master  if  they  might  stone 
this  goat  to  death.  He  consented;  but  as  the 
boys  ran  for  stones,  he  was  surprised  to  see  that 
the  goat  was  laughing.  He  asked  the  goat  the 
cause  of  his  laughter,  and  the  goat  said,  “Long 
ago  I was  a school  master,  and  was  one  day 
out  walking  with  my  pupils.  We  met  a herd 
of  goats,  of  which  one  goat  seemed  to  be  the 
leader.  The  boys  asked  if  they  might  stone  the 
goat  and  I consented.  They  killed  the  animal, 
and  for  the  sin  of  taking  its  life  I was  condemned 
to  live  ninety-nine  goat-lives.  I am  in  my 
ninety-ninth  life  now,  and  as  soon  as  the  boys 
stone  me  to  death  I will  take  your  place  and  you 
will  take  mine.”  Needless  to  say,  the  boys 
did  not  stone  the  goat. 

The  way  up  the  ladder  of  existence  is  won  by 
meritorious  acts,  the  requirements  of  which  are 
plainly  laid  down  in  the  Buddhist  law.  They 
correspond  in  some  degree  to  our  ten  command- 
ments; and  the  followers  of  Jesus  see  much  in 
the  precepts  of  Gautama  to  commend.  Also, 
the  Burmese  generally  are  to  be  admired  for 
the  way  they  live  some  of  the  truths  of  their 


54 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


belief.  Their  hospitality  is  unbounded.  Along 
the  hot  and  dusty  roads  are  often  seen  little 
stands  containing  earthen  vessels  which  pro- 
vide the  “cup  of  cold  water”  for  the  thirsty 
wayfarer.  In  the  villages,  at  the  shrines,  and 
at  frequent  intervals  over  the  country,  are 
built  little  rest  houses,  the  hotels  of  the  natives, 
where  a traveler  may  take  possession  free  of 
charge,  and  be  assured  a shelter  during  his 
stay.  This  is  practical  religion,  whatever  the 
motive  of  the  donor  may  be. 

However,  the  acts  of  merit  work  out  too  often 
in  long  prayers,  formal  ceremonies,  and  deeds 
which  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  character 
within.  Prayers  are  said,  not  prayed, — and 
nearly  always  not  understood,  for  they  are  in  a 
sacred  language  unknown  to  the  people. 

Although  the  Burmese  are  firm  Buddhists, 
yet  there  is  a vivid  trace  of  the  old  devil-,  or 
spirit-,  worship  in  all  their  religious  beliefs 
and  everyday  acts.  Spirits,  called  nats,  are 
everywhere,  especially  evil  ones;  and  they  must 
be  avoided  or  appeased.  A haunting  fear  comes 
with  the  darkness,  and  the  lonely  night  traveler 
yells  or  whistles — and  often  runs — for  evil  stalks 
abroad  in  the  night. 

Maung  Myit,  our  Burmese  servant  for  some 
time,  was  a middle-aged  man  and  strongly 


The  Way  In 


55 


courageous;  but  he  feared  the  spirits.  He  lived 
in  a village  half  a mile  away  on  the  next  hill, 
and  went  home  every  night  rather  than  sleep 
alone  in  the  little  house  we  provided  for  him. 
He  was  always  unusually  industrious  about  his 
work  at  the  close  of  the  day,  in  order  to  get 
home  before  dark.  But  sometimes  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  stay  till  the  shades  of 
night  were  deep.  Then,  when  he  was  ready  to 
go,  he  procured  a stick  from  the  woodpile,  and 
wrapped  a cloth  soaked  in  oil  around  the  end 
of  it.  Laying  this  on  the  floor  by  the  back  door, 
with  matches  ready  for  lighting  by  its  side, 
he  stood  and  clapped  his  hands  loudly  to  scare 
the  spirits  off  so  that  he  could  get  a good  start. 
Then  he  quickly  lighted  the  cloth,  waved  the 
brand  frantically  over  his  head,  and  tore  down 
the  road  at  top  speed.  We  would  stand  and 
watch  the  torch  as  it  was  borne  on  with  un- 
diminished vigor  till  it  disappeared  behind  the 
bushes  at  the  village  gate.  And  we  could 
testify  that  no  fire-scared  spirits  would  molest 
Maung  Myit. 

The  Christian  observer  is  impressed  with  the 
inadequacy  of  the  Buddhist  religion  to  give 
soul  satisfaction.  It  has  a passively  good, 
witching  lure  about  it  that  appeals  strongly  to 
the  easy-going  dweller  in  a tropic  clime.  In 


56 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


precept  excellent,  and  ranking  second  to  Chris- 
tianity in  the  high  standard  of  its  moral  require- 
ments, it  has  a purifying  effect  on  the  baser 
forms  of  Oriental  religion.  But  its  precepts  are 
nowhere  near  being  carried  out.  And  right 
there  lies  its  inadequacy;  for  Buddhism  is 
without  a saviour  from  sin.  Relying  on  its 
eternal  reward  for  its  chief  hold  on  its  devotees, 
and  that  reward  nothing,  or  worse  than  nothing 
- — a ceasing  from  individuality  and  existence — 
what  else  could  be  the  result  but  a life-long 
desire  never  satisfied?  After  all,  the  chief 
difference  between  the  religion  of  Christ  and  all 
other  religions  is  the  one  fact  that  Jesus  saves. 


CHAPTER  IV 


STRANGERS  WITHIN 

NEARLY  every  community  is  undergoing  a 
change  in  these  days.  Either  by  stormy 
revolution  or  by  quiet  growth,  modern 
ideas  are  seizing  the  public  mind.  The  seven - 
wonder  achievements  of  our  time  are  inspiring 
new  life  in  the  minds  of  the  peoples  of  the 
Orient  especially ; and  Burma  is  not  without  her 
progressives.  The  new  Burma  seems  destined 
to  be  revivified  from  without,  with  the  Chinese 
and  the  Indian  as  the  chief  agents  of  the  change. 
The  European  can  not  move  the  stolid  East; 
but  it  will  move  itself,  in  time.  Like  her  women, 
Burma  will  mother  any  one;  and  she  seems  in  a 
fair  way  to  renew  her  thinning  blood  by  quiet 
assimilation  of  the  best  and  the  worst  in  the 
alien. 

In  situation,  Rangoon  is  a part  of  Burma. 
In  inhabitants,  Burma  is  only  a part  of  it. 
It  is  first  India,  for  we  meet  the  Indian  on  the 
way ; and  he  fills  the  vision  when  one  first  lands 
at  the  port.  The  Indians  are  not  the  most 


57 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


58 


Indian  Coolies  Unloading  Rice  from  Up  Country 

influential  in  changing  Burma,  but  they  are  the 
most  numerous  of  all  foreigners ; and  sheer 
numbers  have  an  effect.  Some  would  affirm 
that  they  are  a dead  weight,  but  it  would  be 


Strangers  Within 


59 


better  to  say  that  they  are  a cheek  to  progress 
overswift;  for  the  Burman  is  spasmodic,  and 
the  Chinese  is  proving  himself  very  wide  awake. 

The  English  follow  the  very  just  policy  of 
giving  first  chance  in  governmental  aid  and 
favors  to  the  original  owners  of  the  country 
over  which  they  rule.  All  are  treated  fairly, 
but  Burma  is  governed  primarily  for  the  Bur- 
mese. Yet  in  spite  of  this  advantage,  which  is 
not  inconsiderable,  the  Burmese  are  fast  losing 
hold  of  the  country  financially,  not  to  the 
English,  but  to  the  Indian  and  the  Chinese. 
The  household  servants,  the  shopkeepers,  the 
money  lenders,  the  police  and  soldiers,  are 
largely  Indians,  not  alone  in  Rangoon,  but  all 
over  Burma.  And  they  have  entered  to  some 
extent  into  all  other  occupations.  In  the  course 
of  their  work  these  classes  handle  large  sums  of 
money,  and  their  natural  bent  is  not  to  spend 
it.  It  is  hoarded  or  sent  to  India,  whither  they 
themselves  very  generally  return  when  they 
have  amassed  what  to  them  is  a fortune,  or 
when  they  become  superannuated. 

Every  year  at  the  time  of  the  rice  harvest 
the  ships  from  Madras  and  Calcutta  are  over- 
loaded with  thousands  of  coolies  coming  over 
to  reap  Burma’s  chief  source  of  wealth.  They 
spread  all  over  the  great  flat  lands  of  the  Irra- 


60  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

waddy  delta,  living  in  beast  fashion,  slaving  all 
day  under  a hot  sun  as  they  gather  the  grain 
almost  stalk  by  stalk.  The  end  of  the  ingather- 
ing sees  them  herded  back  to  India,  each  with 
his  wage-pile,  in  the  aggregate  a vast  sum 
which  might  just  as  well  be  left  in  the  country 
of  its  production.  There  are  enough  Burmans 
to  wield  the  sickle,  but  the  majority  have  the 
habits  of  a king,  with  the  purse  of  a pauper. 

In  order  to  pay  off  his  coolies,  the  Burmese 
farmer  must  dispose  of  a large  part  of  his  crop. 
He  is  unduly  delayed  in  shipping  his  paddy 
(unhulled  rice)  to  the  mill  because  the  Indian 
railway  station  master  (Indian  because  reliable 
Burmans  are  scarce)  will  not  provide  a car  unless 
he  is  given  a “present.”  By  the  time  the 
farmer’s  returns  are  all  in,  he  usually  has  not 
sufficient  rice  or  money  remaining  to  keep  his 
family  till  the  next  harvest.  So  he  mortgages 
his  future  crop  for  food  and  seed.  The  chetty 
(Indian  money  lender)  is  at  his  elbow,  willing 
to  make  a loan  at  exorbitant  interest.  And 
thus  it  goes  on  from  year  to  year.  The  average 
agriculturist  is  ever  behind.  He  works  hard, 
too,  but  not  “according  to  knowledge.” 

These  chetties  are  an  abomination.  Their 
shining  bodies,  half-naked,  are  partly  covered 
with  thin,  spotlessly  white  cloth,  and  their  fore- 


Strangers  Within 


61 


heads  and  chests  are  decorated  with  white 
marks.  They  are  the  leeches  of  the  country, 
clean  as  snakes  are  clean.  Woe  to  the  man  who 


Rice  Piled  High,  Burma's  Chief  Source  of  Wealth 


62 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


falls  into  their  money-itching  hands.  Ten  per 
cent  a month  is  their  not-uneommon  interest 
demand.  In  a word,  these  chalk  and  cheese- 
cloth artists  of  lucre  are — 

At  times  of  plenty,  underrated; 

At  stringent  times,  appreciated; 

At  every  time,  most  soundly  hated. 

Their  skill,  accurate  accounting;  their  music, 
the  clink  of  coin;  their  art  treasures,  govern- 
ment stamps;  they  are  wrapped  in  greed  and 
clothed  in  avarice. 

The-  Burman  does  not  fancy  making  a statue 
of  himself,  nor  accommodating  his  stride  to 
that  of  a hundred  others.  The  discipline  of 
army  life  is  irksome  to  him.  So  the  thousands 
of  police  and  soldiers  for  this  land  are  picked 
from  the  giants  of  the  Punjab  and  from  the 
fiery  little  Gurkhas  of  the  Himalaya  foot-hills. 
Also  there  may  be  political  policy  in  policing 
one  country  with  the  people  of  another,  at  least 
in  India  and  Burma. 

The  Indian  has  been  pulled,  or  has  thrust 
himself,  into  every  matter  pertaining  to  the 
well-being  and  progress  of  this  cosmopolitan 
country;  and  while  slow  and  very  often  un- 
skilled, he  can  usually  be  depended  upon. 
He  “ camps  down  alongside  ” and  sticks.  Having 


Strangers  Within  63 

crossed  the  big  water  of  Bengal  Bay  to  get 
here,  he  believes  he  has  lost  his  caste  thereby. 
Of  course  many  of  his  ways  and  tastes  which 
grew  from  caste  distinctions  are  not  dropped; 
but  class  hatred  is  not  odious  in  Burma. 
Man)7-  Indians  marry  Burmese  women.  There 

are  more  Indian  men 
than  women,  as  is  usual 
in  a country  of  immigra- 
tion. Also  there  are 
many  more  Burmese 
women  than  men. 
Cases  of  Burmese  men 
marrying  women  of 
another  nation  are  al- 
most unknown;  but  ap- 
pearances lead  us  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Burmese 
women  will  marry  any 
one.  As  a consequence, 
there  is  a rising  genera- 
tion of  Indo-Burmese. 
The  Caucasian  of  the  Indian  and  the  Mongolian 
of  the  Burman  do  not  make  the  best  blending, 
in  the  judgment  of  Westerners.  But  this  new 
race  mixture  is  destined  to  have  much  to  do 
with  the  shaping  of  the  future  of  the  “land  of 
laughing  women.  ” 


Burma  is  Policed  with  Giants  from 
the  Punjab 


64 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


The  Indian,  silent,  solitary; 

The  Burman,  laughing,  ever  merry. 

The  Indian,  slow  and  plodding  worker; 

The  Burman,  shirker  or  a jerker. 

The  Indian,  dressed  in  white,  or  duller; 

The  Burman,  draped  in  brilliant  color. 

The  Indian  takes  the  world  as  serious; 

The  Burman,  as  a ioy  delirious. 

John  Chinaman  takes  off  his  queue  to  prog- 
ress, and  we  take  off  our  hats  to  John  China- 
man. (Who  of  those  who  know  him  will  ques- 
tion the  appropriateness  of  this  given  name? 
What  John  suggests  to  the  average  English 
reader’s  mind,  that’s  the  Chinaman.)  Views 
of  Burma  are  incomplete  without  giving  our 
friends  of  the  Middle  Kingdom  (beg  pardon, 
Republic)  a prominent  place.  In  America  we 
do  not  see  the  Chinaman  at  his  best.  It  may 
be  he  is  not  so  seen  in  China.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  in  Burma  he  is  seen  at  the  best  the  writer 
has  had  the  privilege  of  seeing  him. 

The  American  is  jerky  and  hilarious  compared 
with  the  Chinaman,  who  is  steady  and  serious. 
He  simply  leans  against  what  the  Westerner 
pushes,  but  he  is  always  leaning.  No  obstacle 
can  long  withstand  that  constancy  of  labor 
and  that  taking  of  everything  to  heart.  The 
Chinaman  has  a destiny.  I fully  believe  that 


Strangers  Within 


65 


we  can  not  in  a lifetime  learn  to  understand  his 
processes  of  mind.  And  that  is  not  to  say  he 
is  inferior.  He  is  different. 

The  Chinese  associated  with  Burmese  don’t 
fight.  They  fit.  And  that,  too,  like  my  carpen- 
ter’s best  dove-tail  joint.  Usually  the  weakenss 
of  the  one  is  evened  by  the  strength  of  the 
other.  Their  ancestry,  religion,  and  traditions 
are  much  the  same.  Their  intermingling  pro- 
duces an  excellent  combination.  It  has  been  our 
observation  that  the  children  of  the  mixed 
marriages  are  fortunate  in  possessing  many  of 
the  virtues  of  both  parents.  They  work  and 
save  with  the  father,  laugh  and  dress  with  the 
mother.  Burma  is  stretching  social  hands  to- 
ward the  populous  nation  to  the  north ; though  in 
government  she  is  tied  to  the  West.  The 
Burmese  character,  at  least,  is  destined  to  be 
greatly  modified  by  contact  with  the  surround- 
ing peoples.  This  light-hearted  folk  have  many 
admirable  traits,  but  they  are  not  of  the  kinds 
which  survive  in  our  practical,  workaday  age. 
Considering  every  thing,  a blending  of  the 
strong  characteristics  of  both  nations  by  race 
union  will  be  the  best  boon  which  either  can 
bestow  on  future  Mongolian  generations. 

Generally  speaking,  a Chinaman  works  hard 
and  long,  saves  his  money,  attains  skill  in  a 
3 


66 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


practical  trade,  and  is  strictly  honest.  The 
Burman,  still  generally  speaking,  lacks  all  these 
virtues;  that  is,  they  do  not  seem  to  be  strongly 
inherent.  If  he  has  them,  they  have  been  put 
on  by  supreme  effort.  But  the  Burman  is 
happy,  good-tempered,  lovable,  and  has  excellent 
taste  in  the  fine  arts,  all  of  which  the  Chinaman 
must  seek.  Both  like  to  rule,  and  are  not  very 
amenable  to  discipline.  Both  are  inveterate 
gamblers.  Let  it  be  understood  that  we  are 
speaking  of  these  traits  as  general  tendencies  of 
the  majority.  Every  people  exhibits  all  degrees 
of  desirable  and  undesirable  features. 

With  slow  but  sure  energy,  the  Chinaman  is 
“at  it”  early  and  late.  He  has  come  to  Burma 
with  his  “hand  in,”  and  has  proceeded  to  build 
a reputation.  In  Burma  the  skilled  carpenters, 
cabinet-makers,  leather-workers,  metal-workers, 
and  contractors  are  very  largely  Chinese.  Also 
large  numbers  are  employed  as  bank  clerks  and 
accountants.  John’s  methodical  ways  make  him 
especially  valuable  as  a director  and  executor  of 
large  public  works ; and  while  he  is  not  generally 
found  to  be  a civil  engineer  by  education,  and 
can  not  take  the  place  of  one,  he  already  knows, 
or  is  fast  learning,  the  best  ways  of  doing  things. 

“Have  a look”  with  me  at  our  Chinese  wood- 
working teacher  at  the  school.  We  wonder 


Strangers  Within 


67 


that  he  can  turn  out  a chair  equal  to  the  best 
in  the  West,  and  yet  seem  to  have  so  few  of  what 
we  consider  facilities  at  his  hand.  Though 
seemingly  crude,  his  methods  are  scientific  and 
up  to  date  in  “conservation  of  natural  energy.  ” 
He  is  in  the  business  “on  all  fours”;  for  his 
normal  capacity  is  almost  doubled  by  the  use 

of  his  toes  as  a stand- 
ard, or  vice.  Such  a tool 
has  the  advantage  of  not 
encumbering  his  tool- 
box. His  work-bench  is 
eight  feet  long,  ten 
inches  wide,  two  feet 
high  at  one  end  and  one 
and  one-half  feet  high  at 
the  other,  thus  being 
strictly  a bench  and  not 
a table.  He  sits  on  it. 
By  means  of  numerous 
pegs  and  wedges  used  in 
conjunction  with  square 
holes  in  the  bench-top 
he  manages  to  duplicate 
processes  which  would  seem  to  require  more 
complicated  appliances.  Instead  of  being  one- 
sided and  awkward  as  he  planes,  he  sits 
astride  his  work  (is  literally  “on  the  job”), 


llong  Lee,  Our  First  Chinese 
Carpenter 


68 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


and  gives  it  the  benefit  of  a straight-arm  push. 

No,  he  does  not  do  everything  backward 
— very  little,  in  fact,  that  I have  seen.  With 
two  pieces  of  iron  shaped  by  the  local  black- 
smith, two  wooden  uprights,  a bamboo  pole, 
and  a piece  of  rope,  he  sets  up  a one-foot-power 
lathe  which  is  a marvel  of  simplicity  and  effec- 
tiveness. And  again,  no  tool  besides  power-run 
machinery  can  bore  a hole  so  quickly  as  does  his 
string-and-rod  “ brace.  ” 

The  Chinaman  in  Burma  has  taken  his  cue 
from  the  homeland  and  has  cut  off  his  queue. 
Never  can  it  be  said  again  that  a “pigtail” 
hangs  down  every  Chinaman’s  back.  And  now 
that  he  is  no  longer  tied  to  the  past  by  the 
hair  of  his  head,  he  is  making  radical  advances 
in  other  ways.  As  we  see  his  sturdy  industry 
and  independence,  we  can  not  but  heartily 
wish  him  Godspeed. 

You  stretch  your  stiffened  limbs, 
Phlegmatic  John; 

And  with  a mighty  stride 
The  world  moves  on. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  BURMAN  HIMSELF  — AND  HER- 
SELF 

THE  Burman  thinks  his  land  is  a good  place 
in  which  to  live,  else  why  is  he  so  willing 
to  stay  there  and  the  foreigner  so  willing 
to  come?  If  the  latter  is  like  himself,  he  must 
be  there  for  the  pleasure  it  brings,  for  the 
Burman’s  conception  of  happiness  is  not  that 
which  is  found  in  anticipation,  in  sacrificing  for 
the  future.  He  sees  no  satisfaction  in  the  ac- 
quiring of  wealth  as  such,  but  only  in  its  spend- 
ing. Because  money  does  not  have  time  to 
settle  on  him,  he  has  made  his  land  a more 
attractive  country  than  many  in  the  East;  for 
even  that  gaiety  which  is  but  the  gloss  of  happi- 
ness has  its  lure.  His  is  the  bliss  of  the  untutored 
mind,  the  optimism  of  the  simple  life.  The 
wants  and  worries  of  modern  civilization  have 
small  place  in  his  daily — no,  not  routine,  for 
he  hates  it — in  his  daily  change.  Did  they  but 
know  it,  Epicurus  is  the  patron  philosopher  of 
these  people  of  a land  of  plenty. 

The  Burman  is  such  a man  as  you  would 

69 


70 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


A Burmese  Government  Officer  in  Official  Dress 


The  Barman  Himself — and  Herself  71 

look  at  three  times  in  the  street.  Let  us  bother 
one  of  a type  who  is  approaching  us,  by  in- 
dulging in  a stare  which  he  has  brought  upon 
himself  by  dressing  in  so  much  color.  And 
what  an  exquisite  taste  he  has  for  color  and  its 
combinations!  Not  such  combinations  and 
hues  as  Americans  would  put  into  a smart 
make-up,  but  such  a color  scheme  as  we  would 
put  into  a room — ideal  for  the  Burman,  and 
much  admired  by  the  visitor  to  these  shores. 
His  head-piece  is  of  a delicate  tint  of  green  silk, 
his  coat  of  white,  his  lower  garments  of  dark- 
green  changeable  silk,  and  his  shoes  are  covered 
with  olive  velvet.  The  soft  tints  of  pink  and 
red  are  also  favorites.  No  hideous  stripes  and 
sharp  contrasts  of  gaudy  colors  are  to  be  seen. 

As  to  the  form  of  his  dress  and  the  method  of 
his  dressing:  Take  two  yards  of  silk  and  wrap 
it  around  the  head  at  the  temples,  tucking  in 
the  end  so  that  a corner  waves  plume-like,  and 
you  have  his  hat;  tighten  a little  the  loose  flow 
of  a short  kimono,  and  you  have  his  coat; 
extend  a flour  sack  to  the  size  of  a barrel,  cut 
out  the  bottom,  put  it  on  over  the  head  and 
lower  it  till  the  top  reaches  the  waist  and  the 
bottom  just  clears  the  ground;  overlap  the 
ample  girth  in  front,  twist  it  into  a knot  and  tuck 
it  inside  the  belt  thus  formed,  and  you  have  the 


72 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


“trousers”;  for  shoes,  take  soles  and  make 
uppers  sufficient  to  form  a little  three-cornered 
pocket  for  the  toes,  or  two  pieces  of  padded 
tape  may  rise  from  between  the  toes  and  fasten 
at  the  sides.  His  diminutive  turban  gives  him 
a jaunty  ap- 
pearance, h i s 
coat  makes  him 
look  cool,  his 
hobble-like 
skirt  shortens 
his  step,  and 
his  sandals 
cause  him  to 
drag  his  feet. 

The  educated 
classes  of  peo- 
ple in  the  towns 
are  now  affeet- 
ing  Western 
shoes  and 
stockings  and 
a n aim  o s t - 
European  coat. 

The  modern 

A Youth  in  Characteristic  Burmese  Dress 

umbrella,  com- 
mon the  world  over,  has  largely  displaced 
the  flat,  Japanese  type.  The  women  dress 


The  Burman  Himself — and  Herself  73 


in  the  same  way  as  the  men,  except  that 
they  have  no  headdress  but  combs  and  flowers, 
their  coats  are  cut  to  a little  different  pattern, 
and  the  skirt  is  fastened  in  a different  way. 
The  people  are  of  medium  height  or  small. 

Very  tall  or  very 
stout  men  are 
few. 

The  true  Bur- 
mese trousers  are 
said  to  be  tattoo. 
Most  of  the  men 
and  boys  are  tat- 
tooed from  the 
waist  to  the 
knees.  The  tail- 
oring of  this  pair 
of  trour  e:s,  which 
is  guaian.eed  not 
to  rip  or  wear,  is  a 
painful  ordeal  of 
boyhood.  There 
is  a tradition 
that  at  first  the 
higher  classes  in 
the  towns  adopted  this  method  of  distin- 
guishing themselves  from  the  jungle  people; 
then  the  latter  followed  the  townspeople  so  as 


And  Another  who  Affects  Half  European 
Style 


74 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


not  to  be  thought  ignorant;  and  now  this  dis- 
figurement is  going  out  of  style  because  it  is 
said  to  mark  the  countryman.  Besides  these 
trousers  that  won’t  come  off,  the  Burman  wears 
a thin,  tight  shirt  and  flowing  Chinese  trousers 
for  underwear. 

A look  into  the  face  of  our  subject  reveals 
his  relation  to  his  neighbors  of  China  and 
Japan.  But  his  eyes  are  more  open  and  less 
oblique  than  theirs.  He  can  not  grow  a full 
mustache  or  beard,  and  the  few  hairs  that  do 
appear  are  naturally  not  welcome.  Partly  to 
save  shaving,  he  carries  in  his  pocket  a small 
pair  of  pincers,  and  has  recourse  to  pulling  out 
the  intruders  by  the  roots. 

The  Burmese  are  generally  tidy  and  clean 
about  their  persons,  and  just  the  opposite  about 
their  surroundings.  There  is  great  hope,  how- 
ever, for  a man  who  comes  “next  to  godliness” 
in  his  daily  bath.  The  favorite  bath-rooms  are 
front  yards  and  village  w^ell  sides.  By  a dexter- 
ous manipulation  of  garments  they  maintain 
decency,  and  yet  get  a thorough  scrub  and  pour. 

The  visitor  is  impressed  with  the  happy 
expressions  on  the  countenances  of  these  people ; 
and  though  he  is  kept  awake  at  night  by  the 
yelled  songs  of  a belated  joy  walker,  he  feels 
that  dull  care  rests  lightly  upon  their  shoulders. 


The  Bur  man  Himself — and  Herself  75 


They  are  indeed  a jolly  race.  This,  with  the 
abundant  fresh  air  of  their  open  houses 
and  their  frequent  bathing,  grants  them  quite 
good  health  in  spite  of  the  food  they  eat,  which 
is  usually  abominable.  The  inside  of  the  platter 


The  Ordeal  of  Being  Tattooed 

remains  unwashed.  In  the  case  of  many,  they 
are  good-looking  until  they  open  their  mouths. 

Rice  and  curry  are  the  bread  and  butter  of 
Burma.  Rice  is  the  staff  of  life,  and  curry  is 
the  rod.  Curry  can  not  be  described  at  one 
sitting.  Like  American  hash,  it  may  be  any- 
thing, and  tastes  like  everything.  It  often  has 


76 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


a meat  basis — fish,  flesh,  or  fowl — contains  bits 
of  a variety  of  vegetables  and  spices,  and  has 
the  consistency  of  a stew.  But  if  the  uninitiated 
should  shut  his  eyes  and  taste  it,  he  would 
affirm  that  it  consisted  of  stewed  peppers;  for 
chillis  are  freely  sprinkled  in.  One  little  chilli 
in  a curry  sufficient  for  a large  family  is  enough 
to  cause  an  unwhipped  alimentary  canal  to  call 
lustily  for  water;  but  these  people  can  eat  down 
the  little  vegetable  misnomers  raw  and  un- 
accompanied, without  a change  of  expres- 
sion. 

Ngapi  is  a representative  of  Burmese  dietary 
abominations.  It  is  simply  rotten  fish.  The 
smell  of  it  beggars  description.  It  combines 
all  the  offensive  odors  we  have  ever  sensed. 
Yet  this  outrage  to  the  olfactory  organs  is  one 
of  the  most  toothsome  titbits  of  a whole  people. 
We  have  seen  children  of  the  poor  licking  the 
juice  of  the  stuff  as  it  dripped  from  freight-ears 
at  the  stations.  Still,  the  Burmans  do  not  have 
a monopoly  on  disgusting  foods. 

In  common  with  most  of  the  natives  of 
India,  the  Burmese  indulge  in  the  use  of  a prepa- 
ration of  betel  leaves  and  lime,  called  by  them 
kun.  When  chewed,  this  produces  a red  juice, 
and  the  first  sight  of  an  open  mouth  containing 
it  is  as  startling  as  the  bursting  of  an  artery. 


The  Bur  man  Himself — and  Herself  77 

In  time  the  teeth  turn  black.  If  to  this  is  added 
crooked  and  rotting  incisors,  and  a stench  for 
breath,  as  is  often  the  ease  with  the  jungle 
people,  the  facial  opening  is  a forbidding  cavern 
to  the  assiduous  users  of  the  tooth-brush  and 
the  mouth  wash.  The  use  of  kun  is  not  universal, 
however,  and  lately  the  cigarette  is  substituted 
for  it, — not  to  say  that  this  is  an  improvement, 
except  in  appearance. 

Both  sexes,  all  ages,  smoke,  smoke,  smoke — 
anything  from  leaves  and  chipped  wood  to 
opium.  Tobacco  is  most  commonly  used,  but 
it  is  not  chewed,  smoked  in  a pipe,  nor  taken  as 
snuff,  but  is  formed  into  cigars.  Most  of  the 
cigars  are  cheap  and  large — so  swelled  with 
chipped-wood  stuffing  and  corn-husk  cover  that 
the  lips  can  not  be  gotten  over  the  near  end 
with  propriety. 

The  Burman  is  respectful  in  the  presence  of 
authority,  and  his  manners  are  good.  As  a social 
companion,  he  is  a very  likeable  person  indeed. 
He  is  nearly  always  at  leisure  for  a visit,  and 
few  can  be  as  pleasant  as  he.  But  his  “little 
behindhand’’  is  well  developed,  and  business 
and  managing  ability  are  lacking.  Whatever 
business  the  Burmans  do  is  managed  largely  by 
the  women.  I verily  believe  a Burmese  woman 
would  rather  sell  than  eat.  Her  glory  lies  in 


y8  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

bargaining  and  making  change,  while  her  hus- 
band passes  her  the  goods. 

The  Burman  is  slow  to  wrath,  but  quick 
when  he  gets  there.  He  is  not  often  seen 
fighting,  but  seems  temporarily  insane  when  he 
does  begin,  and  fights  to  kill.  Perhaps  because 
the  terrible  consequences  are  known,  every 
non-participant  in  a combat  tries  to  stop  it. 
I have  witnessed  a number  of  encounters 
between  both  boys  and  men,  and  every  time 
the  combatants  were  separated  by  their  friends. 

At  a great  woman  suffrage  convention  in 
one  of  the  large  cities  of  America  a noted 
suffragist  was  making  a speech  on  the  conditions 
of  women  in  all  lands.  She  had  just  returned 
from  a world  tour,  and  was  enthusiastic  over  the 
prospect  of  the  growing  freedom  of  women  and 
their  increasing  participation  in  the  affairs  of 
the  world.  At  one  moment  in  her  speech  she 
burst  forth  with  something  like  this:  “Ladies, 
I found  that  women  in  far-away  Burma  have 
been  given  the  vote.  Burmese  women  in  the 
city  of  Rangoon  may  cast  their  ballots  in  certain 
local  elections  on  an  equality  with  their  hus- 
bands and  brothers.” 

It  was  a glowing  report,  and  it  was  true; 
although  it  does  not  give  a true  picture  of  the 
progress  of  woman  suffrage  in  Burma.  This 


A Burmese  Lady  of  the  Very  Fashionable  Type 


75 


8o  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

lecturer  knew  more  about  the  right  to  vote  of 
the  little  silken  ladies  of  that  land  than  the 
Burmese  women  know  themselves;  for  over  there 
they  know  little  about  votes,  and  care  less 
about  the  affairs  of  government  than  their 
American  sisters.  But  the  most  that  such  a 
statement  conveys  is  that  Burmese  women  are 
f ree , — icomparati  vely . 

The  dainty  damsels  of  the  land  that  nestles 
in  a corner  of  southern  Asia  seem  to  laugh  first 
and  last,  if  not  all  the  time.  They  can’t  say  the 
Burmese  word  for  laugh  (yee)  without  parting 
their  lips  and  showing  their  teeth  in  a smile  at 
least.  Ma  Burma  laughs  because  she  does  not 
have  to  be  only  one  of  a number  of  wives  of 
the  same  man,  and  be  compelled  to  wear  a heavy 
veil  over  her  face  when  she  goes  out  on  the 
street,  as  do  her  Mohammedan  sisters  through- 
out the  East.  She  laughs  because  she  does  not 
have  to  remain  “ in  purdah  ” — always  have  to  be 
hidden  behind  the  curtains  of  her  home  prison 
— as  is  the  fate  of  her  Hindu  neighbor  woman 
in  India.  She  laughs  because  hers  is  not  the  lot 
of  hard  work  and  bound  and  crippled  feet  of 
many  of  the  women  of  China.  She  laughs 
because  she  has  the  opportunity  to  do  what  she 
likes  to  do  most,  “ to  buy  and  sell  and  get  gain.” 
On  a continent  of  women  slaves  the  liberty  of 


r' 


The  Bur  man  Himself — and  Herself  81 


Burmese  Womanhood  at  its  Best 


82  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

Burma’s  women  shines  like  the  rubies  of  their 
mines. 

But  we  would  not  be  misunderstood.  There  is 
a drawback  to  ever}"  blessing  in  any  land  where 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  has  not  purified  the 
hearts  of  men.  With  all  her  freedon,  the  demure 
brown  woman  of  Burma  must  walk  behind  her 
husband  on  the  street,  take  all  the  care  of  the 
children,  do  much  of  the  hard  work,  carry  the 
loads  on  her  head  and  the  heavy  burdens  of  the 
household  on  her  heart.  The  girl  babies  are 
much  more  unwelcome  than  boys,  and  generally 
are  not  considered  worth  educating.  With 
cheerful  grace  the  sister  carries  around  the 
pampered  baby  brother  on  her  hip.  But  she 
can  roam  the  roads,  play  to  her  heart’s  content, 
go  to  market,  smile  at  the  world,  stay  unmarried 
till  she  is  grown,  and  choose  a husband  herself. 
So  she  laughs. 

As  to  grace  of  carriage,  dignity  of  bearing, 
and  pride  of  race,  the  Burmese  people  are  made 
of  the  stuff  that  kings  are  made  of.  They 
revel  in  color  and  music,  show  and  display. 
They  are  artists,  but  not  artisans.  Not  having 
learned  how  to  obey,  they  can  not  command. 
Their  strong  and  good  traits  are  not  of  the 
sort  that  long  endure  in  this  modern  workaday 
world,  more’s  the  pity.  Should  time  last,  their 


The  Barman  Himself — and  Herself  Sj 

fate  would  be  assimilation.  But  should  this 
come,  those  who  know  them  best  hope  that  their 
general  likableness  may  be  transmitted. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  WAY  UP  COUNTRY 

THE  long  Up  Mail  stands  ready  in  the 
Rangoon  station  for  the  three-hundred- 
eighty-mile  trip  to  Mandalay.  Under  the 
low,  smoke-blackened  roof  of  the  train-shed  the 
light  is  poor,  and  we  peer  into  the  different  com- 
partments until  we  find  our  names  written  on 
cards  placed  at  the  head  of  our  berths.  These 
places  have  been  reserved  for  us  by  request. 
Amid  much  confusion  and  shouting  of  coolies 
we  pile  in  our  luggage  (not  baggage),  and  with  a 
feeling  of  preparedness  for  the  worst,  stroll  up 
and  down  the  platform  to  view  the  train  in- 
cidentally, and  our  fellow  travelers  especially. 
Lest  we  seem  to  digress,  we  shall  eschew  com- 
ment on  the  latter  for  the  present. 

Some  aspects  of  this  line  of  ears  strike  a new- 
comer as  strange  indeed.  To  Americans  the 
European  type  of  engine  appears  peculiar.  It 
sits  low  on  the  tracks,  with  square  front  and 
boxed-in  sides.  The  tracks  in  Burma  are 
narrow-gage,  the  rails  being  about  three  feet 
84 


The  Way  Up  Country  Sj 

apart.  The  ears  are  the  usual  width,  and  so 
they  look  top-heavy.  They  are  of  different 
lengths,  the  longest  being  a little  shorter  than 
the  American  Pullman.  The  longer  ones  have 
double  trucks,  but  the  shorter  have  single 
pairs  of  wheels,  with  spokes.  Various  types 
of  car  construction  prevail.  The  first-  and 
second-class  carriages  are  divided  into  three 
or  four  compartments,  and  the  third-class  is  all 
in  one,  generally.  The  ears  are  hooded  for  pro- 
tection from  the  heat;  that  is,  they  have  double 
tops,  the  upper  part  leaving  a six-inch  space 
between  it  and  the  lower,  and  reaching  down 
the  side  to  below  the  window  tops.  The  first- 
class  compartments  are  painted  white  on  the 
outside,  the  second-class  green,  and  the  third- 
class  light  brown.  Red,  too,  must  be  included 
in  the  color  scheme,  and  so  the  luggage  and  mail 
compartments  are  adorned  with  crimson.  Each 
division  has  its  respective  class  number  indi- 
cated by  large  raised  letters  on  the  side.  The 
government  officials  usually  have  the  white 
places  to  themselves,  the  natives  crowd  the 
brown  ones,  and  the  green  is  a meeting-ground 
for  the  commonwealth  of  all  peoples. 

We  start  for  our  places,  when  a porter  clangs 
a hand-bell  that  is  altogether  too  big  for  him, 
as  a sign  that  in  five  minutes  we  shall  be  on  our 


The  Irrawaddy  lliver  and  the  Boats  that  Ply  its  Waters 


The  Way  Up  Country  87 

way.  There  is  an  extra  rush  as  belated  passen- 
gers clamber  on  board,  a loud  slamming  of  doors 
along  the  line,  and  at  the  expiration  of  the  time 
limit  the  whistle  toots — not  a strong,  healthy 
whistle,  but  an  effeminate  shriek — and  we  are 
off.  You  may  walk  and  run  along  with  us  for  a 
time,  since  there  are  no  jerks  nor  fast  get- 
aways in  the  land  where  time  is  not  precious. 
We  are  starting  at  sixteen  fifty  o’clock,  since 
there  are  not  two  twelves  in  a day,  but  really 
twenty-four  hours,  for  the  Burmese  railways. 

As  the  city  fades  away,  we  turn  to  inspect 
our  compartment.  It  measures  about  eight 
feet  wide  by  ten  long  and  eight  high.  Along 
the  sides,  except  at  the  doors,  are  cane-seated 
benches  with  springs.  Passengers  thus  sit 
with  their  backs  to  the  windows,  unless  there  is 
plenty  of  room  and  they  dare  manifest  enough 
ill  manners  to  stretch  their  legs  along  the  seat. 
In  an  endeavor  to  combine  a bed  and  a seat 
in  one,  the  company  has  made  this  very  neces- 
sary part  of  comfortable  traveling  too  narrow 
to  sleep  on  and  too  wide  to  sit  on.  The  first- 
class  seat  is  convertible,  so  that  one  can  face 
the  front;  but  the  third-class  has  just  foot- 
wide boards,  an  extra  seat  in  the  middle  of  the 
ear,  and  overhead  “upper  berths,”  which  are 
in  reality  third-quality  pantry-shelves.  In  our 


88 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


carriage  the  cushioned  upper  berth  is  folded 
against  the  wall  when  it  is  not  in  use.  Opening 
off  the  compartment  is  a diminutive  wash-  and 
closet-room. 

Several  fellow  travelers  share  our  stuffy  cell. 
One,  a Chinaman,  gazes  stolidly  out  of  the 
window;  an  Indian  lolls  in  a corner,  and  a 
cigarette,  with  a young  Burman  pulling  poison 
from  one  end  of  it,  occupies  another.  And  there 
is  luggage,  luggage,  luggage — least  in  importance, 
but  greatest  in  bulk.  Only  a small  amount  of 
impedimenta  may  be  booked  (checked)  free  on  a 
ticket  and  carried  in  the  brake-van  (baggage 
car),  and  any  extra  is  charged  for  at  a high  rate. 
Consequently  stern  necessity  tells  the  Oriental  to 
take  it  with  him  into  his  compartment,  and, 
within  a certain  limit,  no  one  says  him  nay. 
Add  to  this  the  fact  that  we  in  the  Hast  must 
carry  our  comforts  with  us  if  we  would  have  any. 
It  is  the  custom  to  provide  very  few  comforts 
on  the  trains,  in  the  rest-houses  which  are  used 
as  hotels,  and  at  the  houses  of  friends.  Rooms 
are  furnished  with  no  more  than  was  Elisha’s 
little  room  “on  the  wall”  at  Shunem, — abed, 
table,  stool,  and  candlestick  being  the  sum. 
Bedding,  toilet  articles,  etc.,  must  be  taken  on  a 
journey.  So  every  traveler  seems  to  be  “shift- 
ing” with  all  his  effects.  There  is  no  sight  of  the 


The  Way  Up  Country  8g 

stalwart  European  striding  down  the  station 
platform  between  two  suit  eases;  instead,  he 
saunters  along,  and  about  ten  coolies  follow 
with  his  movables  on  their  heads. 

Let  us  take  an  inventory  of  the  various 
articles  that  clutter  our  feet — rolls  of  bedding, 
tin  trunks,  boxes,  a sun-hat,  basket  of  fruit, 
rugs,  canes,  umbrellas,  gun,  birds  in  cage,  food 
basket,  bath-tub,  wash-bowl  and  pitcher,  fold- 
ing table,  bag  of  nuts,  typewriter,  water-jar, — 
but  I weary  you. 

Shall  we  look  from  the  window?  Broken 
only  here  and  there  by  a tree-crowned  eminence 
marking  a village,  vast  stretches  of  waving 
rice-fields  extend  to  the  bounds  of  the  horizon. 
It  seems  incomprehensible  that  in  this  greatest 
of  rice-growing  countries  every  plant  is  stuck 
into  the  ground  by  hand.  And  what  appears 
to  be  one  illimitable  field  is  in  reality  a countless 
number  of  little  irregular  patch-work  puddles, 
many  of  them  no  larger  than  the  space  beneath 
a house. 

The  view  out  soon  becomes  monotonous,  and 
we  welcome  the  station  stops.  The  train  slows 
down  with  a joltless,  dignified  ease,  and  the 
decreasing  roar  is  interspersed  with  the  babel  of 
the  station  furies, — coolie  women  crying  their 
extreme  willingness  to  carry  luggage,  and  fight- 


go 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


ing  one  another  for  the  privilege.  The  train  is 
to  stop  for  twenty  minutes  for  no  apparent 
reason,  and  we  alight  to  look  around.  Native 
men  come  swinging  by  with  two  baskets  on  a 
pole,  one  containing  a pot  of  hot  rice  and  the 
other  various  kinds  of  curry.  A banana  leaf 
serves  as  a plate  and  fingers  for  forks,  and  a 
good  hearty  lunch  is  sold  to  the  passengers 
through  the  low  train  windows, — price  eight 
cents.  Here  is  a Burmese  woman  serving 
various  tasty  edibles,  which  she  carries  in  a 
wide  flat  basket  on  her  head,  languidly  waving 
a stick  over  them  to  keep  the  crows  away. 
Her  plaintive  cry  is,  “Poo  deh,  cho  deh.” 
(It’s  hot,  it’s  sweet).  A flock  of  crows  is  perched 
on  the  tops  of  the  cars,  watching  an  opportunity 
to  swoop  for  the  leavings,  while  a horde  of 
skinny  dogs  run  in  and  out  among  the  wheels, 
ready  to  snap  for  chicken  bones. 

A little  engine  is  shunting  wagons  (switching 
freight-cars)  on  a side-track.  Here  is  a native 
brakeman  using  a unique  brake  to  stop  his 
shunted  wagon  at  the  right  place — a brake  on 
which  these  railways  seem  to  have  an  exclusive 
patent  right.  But  I shall  not  risk  divulging  a 
trade  secret  when  I tell  you  that  the  brake  con- 
sists in  the  man’s  running  along  ahead  of  the 
moving  wagon  and  putting  little  stones  on  the 
track  to  retard  its  progress. 


The  Way  Up  Country 


9i 


At  length  we  get  started  again  slowly,  and  the 
tiresome  journey  continues.  The  speed  limit 
is  twenty-five  miles  an  hour,  and  we  make 
about  twenty.  With  uncomfortable  seats,  close 
compartments,  slow  rate  of  travel,  and  long 


The  Great  Gotec  Bridge,  Built  by  American  Engineers 


journeys,  travel  is  not  pleasant  in  Burma.  But 
the  speed  is  so  much  greater  than  the  slow- 
moving  bullock-cart  that  there  is  little  com- 
plaint on  the  part  of  those  who  formerly  knew 
only  the  snail-pace.  Why  be  in  a hurry  ? There 
is  another  day  coming.  The  greater  speed  the 


Q2  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

more  jolting,  and  slowness  insures  safety.  And 
while  these  trains  are  classed,  by  foreigners, 
among  the  things  that  creep,  they  have  their 
advantages.  They  are  safe,  frequent,  and 
commodious,  and  since  they  have  all  the  time, 
they  are  rarely  behind  it. 

The  road  bed  is  in  excellent  condition,  the 
ties  being  of  the  old  reliable  wooden  sort.  The 
white  ants  would  soon  consume  these  for  lunch 
if  it  were  not  that  the  frequent  trains  keep  them 
trembling,  and  his  antship  does  not  relish 
shaky  food.  But  the  same  preservative  is  not  in 
operation  with  the  telegraph  poles  and  fence 
posts,  hence  they  are  of  steel,  set  in  cement. 
The  former  are  worn-out  rails  and  are  well 
adapted  for  the  purpose.  Painted  on  each  pole 
in  plain  sight  of  the  moving  cars  is  the  number 
of  miles  from  the  terminus  of  the  road,  and  also 
the  number  of  the  pole  in  that  mile.  Thus 
the  traveler  at  any  moment  may  ascertain  just 
how  many  feet  he  is  from  his  destination. 

In  places  where  cuts  and  fills  are  made  along 
the  track  the  earth  is  removed  with  hoe-like 
tools  and  carried  in  baskets  on  the  heads  of 
coolie  women.  The  work  is  done  by  the  piece 
and  they  are  paid  according  to  the  number  of 
cubic  yards  removed.  In  order  to  show  how 
high  the  top  of  the  ground  was  before  the  ex- 


The  Way  Up  Country 


93 


cavation  was  made,  columns  of  earth  are  left 
standing  at  intervals.  These  are  usually  crowned 
with  a tuft  of  grass  or  weeds  to  prove  that  that 
was  really  the  top;  and,  being  about  a foot  in 
diameter,  they  have  the  appearance  of  human 
beings,  and  are  called  “dead  men.”  So  it  is 
often  said  that  the  railway  is  strewn  on  either 
side  with  dead  men. 

We  engage  in  conversation,  after  asserting 
our  rights  to  the  air  by  insisting  that  the  Burman 
shall  cease  to  “drink  his  cigarette.”  The  talk 
drifts  to  fares  on  the  railway. 

“What  is  the  rate  of  fares?”  I asked  my 
companion. 

“ One  pice  (half  cent)  a mile  third-class,  three 
pice  second-class,  five  pice  first-class,”  was  the 
answer;  and  he  continued  by  way  of  further 
explanation:  “You  will  notice  that  each  ticket 
has  the  color  of  the  compartment  in  which 
it  grants  a ride ; and  the  amount  it  costs  is  printed 
on  it.  Usually  none  of  the  train  authorities 
trouble  you  about  your  ticket  until  you  pass  out 
of  the  station  at  your  destination,  and  many 
times  you  are  not  requested  to  show  it  at  all.” 

“ I should  think  such  a method  would  give 
ample  opportunity  for  dishonest  persons  to 
steal  rides.” 

“ It  does  seem  so,  and  yet  it  is  surprising  how 


94 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


few  persons  get  free  rides  on  these  trains,  con- 
sidering the  carelessness  and  grafting  propen- 
sities of  some  of  the  employees.” 

“Are  our  missionaries  granted  special  rates?” 
“Yes,  they  get  half-fares  by  written  request 
to  the  traffic  manager  for  each  trip;  or  certifi- 
cates lasting  a month  are  granted.  We  mission- 
aries usually  travel  second-class.  The  third- 
class  fare  is  only  a little  less  than  half  second- 
class  fare,  and  for  the  difference  in  cost  it  doesn’t 
pay  to  endanger  our  health  and  the  reputation 
of  our  work.  A person’s  standing  is  everything 
over  here,  and  he  is  judged  by  the  way  he  lives 
and  travels.  Certain  standards  are  expected 
of  Europeans  and  Americans,  and  if  one  does 
not  live  up  to  them  (and  they  are  reasonable) 
the  natives  lose  respect  for  him.  Also,  at  times, 
these  third-class  compartments  are  veritable 
pens  of  filth  and  disease.  By  the  way,  did  you 
ever  hear  of  ‘pipe-stem  traveling’?” 

I confessed  my  ignorance  of  the  meaning  of 
the  expression,  and  my  friend  explained:  “Well, 
I heard  the  expression  in  Japan.  You  see,  a 
Japanese  pipe  has  a valuable  bowl  and  mouth- 
piece, but  these  two  are  connected  by  a cheap 
and  changeable  stem.  It  is  said  that  when  the 
gentleman  with  the  slim  purse  desires  to  make  a 
good  impression  upon  his  friends,  he  buys  a 


The  Way  Up  Country 


95 


first-class  ticket  when  his  journey  begins,  but 
only  to  the  next  station.  At  the  first  stop,  he 
alights  and  buys  a third-class  ticket,  and  takes 
a lower  seat  until  within  one  station  of  his 
destination,  when  he  changes  again,  and  is 
able  smilingly  and  without  ‘ loss  of  face  ’ to  greet 
his  friends  from  a first-class  carriage.  The 
reason  for  this  being  called  pipe-stem  travel 
is  obvious.” 

Meal-time  suggests  that  there  are  two  alter- 
natives for  the  refreshment  of  the  appetite. 
There  are  no  dining  cars  on  the  trains,  and  so 
we  partake  of  the  viands  supplied  at  the  station 
restaurants,  or  resort  to  the  tiffin  basket. 
The  latter  we  have  brought  with  us,  and  it 
consists  of  a large  (for  a basket)  trunk-like 
affair,  usually  crated,  or  in  some  way  reinforced 
to  withstand  the  wear.  Now  “tiffin”  as  a 
word  is  the  sole  property  of  Anglo-Indian 
circles,  and  comes  from  “tiffing,”  which  signi- 
fies eating  between  meals.  So  tiffin  is  luncheon 
in  the  East,  but  always  the  luncheon  between 
breakfast  and  dinner;  that  is,  about  noon  or 
early  afternoon.  But  a tiffin  basket  carries 
meals,  of  whatever  name.  And  its  fitting-up 
ranges  all  the  way  from  the  very  simple  to  the 
very  elaborate,  according  to  the  taste  and 
pocket-book  of  the  owner.  It  is  very  handy  to 


q6 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


have  an  alcohol  or  an  air-pressure  oilstove  in  it 
so  that  water  or  food  may  be  heated.  Lacking 
this  we  could  resort  to  the  escape  valve  on  the 


A Traveling  Restaurant 


The  Way  Up  Country  97 

engine  for  hot  water,  if  the  driver  (engineer) 
is  friendly. 

The  food  hawked  along  the  station  platforms 
does  not  appeal  to  the  eye  nor  taste  of  those 
whose  ideas  of  cleanliness  and  attractiveness  of 
victuals  have  been  cultured  along  the  lines  of 
Western  propriety.  So  at  the  stations  where  we 
arrive  about  meal-times  are  restaurants,  ar- 
ranged first-,  second-,  and  third-class,  and  ample 
time — at  the  rate  of  the  East — is  given  for  the 
satisfaction  of  the  appetite. 

In  the  old  days  the  river  Irrawaddy  was  the 
only  highway  to  the  up-country ; and  it  was,  and 
is  yet,  a broad  and  handy  way  indeed,  however 
winding.  The  prows  of  palatial  steamers  and 
swift  launches  cut  its  yellow  waters  today; 
and  a delightful  round  trip  is  made  by  tourists 
in  going  to  Mandalay  by  train,  and  back  by 
sliding  down  the  devious  course  of  the  father 
of  Burmese  waters. 

We  leave  the  train  to  meet  with  transporta- 
tion more  primitive.  A not-to-be-despised  mode 
of  travel  in  Burma,  even  in  this  day  of  electric, 
steam,  and  motor  vehicles,  is  the  lowly  bullock 
cart.  Every  foreigner  must  come  to  it,  if  he 
stays  here  long  and  goes  anywhere.  Off  the 
beaten  track  of  the  globe  trotter,  the  cart  roads 
are  poor,  as  a rule.  The  English  are  the  best 
4 


q8  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

road  builders  in  the  world,  it  is  said,  and  no 
one  can  complain  about  the  ones  they  have 
built  in  Burma.  But  there  are  few  of  them  in  so 
big  a country.  The  strictly  Burmese  roads  are 
ditches.  The  cartmen  go  “ the  shortest  way 
there,”  and  the  roads  are  never  “worked.” 
The  water  from  the  torrential  rains,  finding  its 
level  there  as  everywhere,  seeks  the  cart  tracks 
for  channels;  and  in  the  course  of  years,  water 
and  wheel  furrow  into  the  ground  a deeply 
sunken  road,  ever  rough  and  bumpy,  and 
‘smothered  in  dust  in  dry  weather. 

On  such  lowways  it  is  evident  that  two 
wheels  are  just  half  the  difficulty  of  four;  hence 
the  cart.  Its  bed  is  made  square,  with  woven 
bamboo  for  a floor.  It  has  picket-fence  sides 
about  a foot  high.  If  covered,  the  top  is  of  the 
prairie-schooner  style,  and  is  made  of  matting, 
with  adjustable  extra  pieces  to  extend  over 
front  and  back  in  case  of  rain.  This  is  the 
common  make;  but  there  are  variations  for 
different  purposes.  The  tongue  is  of  two 
converging  pieces  of  wood,  fastened  wide  apart 
at  the  axle  and  meeting  where  the  yoke  is 
attached  to  them  in  front.  The  yoke  itself  is 
of  common  variety,  except  that  the  pieces  which 
parallel  the  necks  of  the  bullocks  are  like  broom 
sticks.  They  protrude  through  holes  in  the 


The  Way  Up  Country 


99 


beam  that  rests  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  and 
are  easily  removable.  Across  the  tongue-pieces, 
and  right  between  the  flanks  of  the  bullocks, 
being  in  front  of  the  cart  box  proper,  short 
boards  are  placed  for  the  driver’s  seat. 

The  wheels  are  quite  modern,  although  before 
the  country  was  opened  up  they  used  to  be  huge 
slabs  of  wood.  The  axle  is  made  of  hard  jungle 
wood,  and  the  wheels  are  kept  on  by  pins 
in  its  ends.  I have  been  explicit,  because  the 
Burmese  cart  is  a remarkable  vehicle — not  for 
looks,  far  from  it,  but  for  adaptability.  Some- 
times singly,  but  usually  in  long  caravans, 
thousands  of  these  simple  conveyances  worm 
through  the  valleys  and  wind  over  the  hills, 
bearing  the  weight  of  Burma’s  load. 

A few  days  after  our  arrival  in  the  up-country, 
we  were  slumbering  peacefully  in  the  gray 
dawn,  the  only  cool  and  sleep-producing  part 
of  the  night.  Dream-like  and  far  away  there 
came  a piercing  cry,  like  the  plantive  call  of 
some  wild  thing  in  distress.  Again  and  louder 
it  sounded,  till  it  penetrated  sleep-dulled  ears 
like  a pain.  There  was  a sudden  sitting  up  in 
bed,  a quickened  heart-beat,  and  a whispered, 
“What’s  that?”  A moment  of  stillness  and  it 
came  again,  a long-drawn-out  shriek  that  cut 
the  misty  atmosphere  like  a knife.  What 


IQO  Old  Style  Cart  with  Water  Buffaloes 


The  Way  Up  Country 


101 


horrible  agony,  that  could  project  such  sounds 
into  the  ghostly  stillness ! And  yet  the  neighbor- 
hood was  not  alarmed ! Now,  again,  and  nearer! 
Shriek!  screech!  yell!  scream! — shriek!  screech! 
yell ! scream ! Oh,  the  terror  of  it ! It  stimulated 
action,  and  yet  forbade  it.  We  must  do  some- 
thing. Crawling  stealthily  out  from  under  the 
net  and  over  to  the  window,  we  peered  road- 
ward  into  the  haze.  It  approached,  but  we 
stuck  to  our  post  with  the  bravery  of  despera- 
tion. Then,  slowly  through  the  fog  it  loomed, 
and  took  shape.  Our  hair  dropped  back  into  its 
natural  attitude,  and  we  laughed ! Nothing 
but  a Burmese  cart  on  the  way  to  early  market, 
and  the  driver  fast  asleep  on  his  seat. 

Somewhat  exaggerated,  says  the  stranger  to 
Burma.  Our  fright, — perhaps  so.  But  not  the 
noise.  It  puts  description  to  shame.  For  the 
Burman  scorns  to  grease  his  cart  wheels..  With 
a heavy  load  and  wood  frictioning  wood,  the 
squeaks  and  squawks  and  squoks  are  never 
the  same,  but  always  painful — to  all  but  the 
occupants  of  the  cart.  But  why  this  affliction 
of  the  ear,  we  ask,  with  earth-oil  almost  as 
cheap  as  dirt.  Two  reasons  are  given.  One  is, 
that  the  racket  drives  away  evil  spirits;  but  the 
other,  and  much  more  practical,  one  is  that 
gritty  dust  sticks  to  the  grease  and  wears  away 


102  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

the  wooden  axle.  But  even  at  that  we  fail  to 
quite  see  the  mechanical  philosophy  of  it;  yet 
settle  back  to  bear  it,  as  something  of  the 
vexatious  in  Oriental  life  that  will  not  be 
remedied. 

Well,  we  are  ready  to  attempt  a ride.  As  is 
usual  with  country-going  carts,  at  the  back 
there  is  a large  bag-like  projection,  made  of 
bamboo  strips,  to  provide  a place  for  bullock 
food,  water  cans,  and  other  impedimenta  of 
the  journey.  So  we  are  deprived  of  the  happy 
privilege  of  letting  our  feet  dangle  out  of  the 
back  end.  We  must  crawl  into  the  prison  from 
the  front,  before  the  bullocks  are  attached. 
There  are  no  elevated  seats,  for  the  Burman 
doesn’t  use  any;  and  anyway  the  top  is  too  low 
for  them.  So  our  comfort  is  found  in  any 
permissible  sitting-on-the-floor  attitude  we  may 
invent. 

The  bullocks  are  heavy  fellows,  with  the 
usual  fat-hump  above  the  shoulders  common 
to  all  Eastern  draught  kine.  The  driver- -he 
likes  to  be  called  the  “chief  officer  of  the  cart” 
— maneuvers  his  animals  into  place  with  con- 
siderable deftness,  meanwhile  making  a kissing 
noise  with  his  mouth  to  keep  them  steady  and 
quiet,  exactly  the  same  noise  we  make  to  pro- 
duce the  opposite  effect  on  a horse.  The  reins  are 


The  Way  Up  Country 


103 


small,  stout  ropes,  and  are  fastened,  in  lieu  of 
a bridle,  through  holes  in  the  noses  of  the  patient 
beasts.  Their  motto  is,  Slow  and  steady.  We 
start,  or  are  supposed  to,  but  it  is  difficult  to 
detect  the  movement.  The  operation  is  some- 
thing like 
this:  The 

bullocks 
stand  firm- 
ly on  all 
fours,  and 
at  the  com- 
mand to  go 
they  lean 
frontwards 
against  the 
yoke,  gin- 
gerly; and  as  the  load  slowly  follows,  a forefoot  is 
extended,  to  save  them  from  falling  forward. 
They  keep  on  leaning,  and  the  other  forefoot 
takes  its  turn.  A succession  of  such  movements, 
slightly  accelerated,  makes  progress.  And  this  is 
their  speed  limit,  if  left  to  themselves.  But  im- 
patient passengers  and  a liberal  fee  provide  an 
original  source  of  greater  haste. 

The  only  springs  present  are  those  between 
our  vertebrae,  and  they  were  not  made  to  meet 
this.  Jolt,  jiggle,  tip,  bump,  roll;  rub,  rattle, 


On  the  Road  in  a Bullock  Cart 


104  /«  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

dust,  heat,  smells — on  we  go,  and  are  worn 
nerve-bare  in  a mile. 

Possibly  going  faster  and  getting  the  thing 
over  would  be  preferable.  So  we  suggest  it. 
The  “chief  officer”  protests;  sore-footed  bullocks, 
hot  sun,  etc.,  are  his  excuses.  But  at  last  we 
insist;  and  he  rises — literally — to  the  occasion. 

Now  in  India  a driver  resorts  to  the  tails  of 
his  bullocks  as  accelerators.  With  a gutteral 
trill  over  his  tongue,  he  reaches  for  a caudle 
appendage  like  changing  the  speed  on  a Ford, 
and  gives  it  a vigorous  twist  that  quickly  injects 
pep  into  a jaded  beast.  And  this  is  kept  up 
during  the  life-time  of  the  animal  till  the  abused 
tail  is  sadly  lifeless  and  disconnected  in  its  bony 
structure,  looking  very  much  like  the  string  of 
spools  the  baby  pulls  across  the  floor.  Or  it 
may  be,  on  occasion,  that  the  Indian  eart-man 
tries  some  other  way.  Leaning  far  over  the 
bullocks,  he  threateningly  brandishes  his  whip- 
stiek  over  their  heads  with  a motion  resembling 
that  of  the  bow  over  the  violin  strings,  the  while 
emitting  a series  of  shrill  yelps  calculated  to 
freeze  bovine  blood. 

But  no  tail-twists  nor  fiddle-music  for  the 
Burman.  Our  man  grabs  his  reins  in  one  hand, 
and  his  goad  in  the  other,  and  jumps  to  his 
feet  with  a yell.  Then,  with  every  muscle 


The  Way  Up  Country  105 

alert,  he  shoots  out  a volley  of  epithets  over  a 
mouth-full  of  kun  juice:  “Oun-n-n-g  meh-leh! 
Nwa-dee!  Thwa!  Thwa!  Thwa!  Uh!  Uh! 
Uh!” — which,  freely  translated,  means,  Oh 
mother!  (a  forceful  interjection  ever  springing 
to  the  lips  of  a Burman)  Bullock!  (literally, 
he-cattle)  Go!  Go!  Go!  And  the  last  three 
sounds  are  chesty  grunts,  accompanied  by 
energetic  pokes  into  the  animal’s  flanks  with 
the  point  of  the  goad. 

As  a surprisingly  quick  effect  of  this  sudden 
outburst  the  bullocks  lean  forward  more  nearly 
like  lightning,  and  “thwa.”  And  we  also 
“thwa.”  Every  previous  disagreeable  sensa- 
tion we  have  experienced  is  multiplied  in 
intensity  by  ten,  and  a number  of  new  ones 
added.  Projected  in  every  direction  in  rapid 
succession,  the  rebound  is  truly  harrowing. 
We  begin  to  think  of  resultant  black  and  blue 
spots  on  anatomical  projections,  and  decide 
to  forego  our  speed  mania  for  the  present.  We 
communicate  this  humiliating  conclusion  to 
the  “chief  officer,”  and,  with  the  faintest  of 
smiles,  he  soon  brings  the  flying  equipage  to 
a full  stop.  Then,  lighting  a big  cheroot,  our 
Jehu  calmly  puffs  away  at  it  and  awaits  our 
further  pleasure.  We  say  nothing,  for  there 
is  nothing  adequate  to  the  occasion  that  can 


106  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

be  said.  So  we  emerge  very  much  disheveled 
in  appearance  and  cowed  in  spirit,  and  settle 
for  all  time  that  there  is  only  one  way  to  travel 
comfortably  with  a Burmese  cart;  and  that  is 
— to  walk! 


CHAPTER  VII 


OF  THE  BURMANS  BURMESE 

SOON  after  going  to  Burma,  we  received  a 
letter  from  a small  boy  acquaintance  in 
America,  asking  if  we  lived  in  a tree. 
Perhaps  this  idea  is  akin  to  the  notion  that 
the  sun  never  shines  in  darkest  Africa,  or  that 
all  the  vegetation  in  China  is  yellow.  However, 
it  may  be  our  young  friend  did  see  a picture 
of  a house  in  a tree,  purporting  to  be  a reflection 
of  life  in  Burma.  But  after  a number  of  years 
of  living  in  and  traveling  about  this  land  of 
peculiarities  we  did  not  see  one  house  in  a tree, 
though  we  heard  there  are  some.  Burmese 
tree-houses  are  just  about  as  ordinary  as 
American  tree-houses. 

But  the  Burman  is  fond  of  living  “up  in  the 
air,”  at  least  in  the  low-lying  parts  of  the 
country.  Paddy  (rice)  is  the  most  general 
crop,  and  it  must  be  kept  flooded.  The  ground 
is  covered  with  water  during  the  rainy  season; 
and,  even  if  it  were  possible,  it  would  be  very 
uncomfortable  and  unhealthful  to  live  in  a house 


107 


A Scene  in  a Jungle  Village 


Of  the  Bur  mans  Burmese  log 

with  a dirt  floor.  So  the  people  usually  perch 
their  houses  high  up  on  posts. 

The  typical  Burmese  house  is  made  entirely 
of  bamboo,  that  inestimable  boon  to  the  poor 
man  in  the  tropics.  Its  firm  structure,  light 
weight,  and  straight-splitting  tendency  make  it 
very  valuable  for  building  purposes.  With  it 
he  makes  all  parts  of  his  house,  his  linoleum, 
candlestick,  drinking  cup,  savings  bank,  cow- 
bell, wrapping  paper,  horoscope,  water  pipe, 
furniture,  baskets,  handles  for  tools,  and  a 
hundred  other  articles  too  common  to  mention. 
I judge  the  least  use  he  makes  of  it  is  for  fish- 
ing poles. 

The  primitive  and  only  tool  needed  for  the 
building  is  the  dak,  a long  knife  just  about 
the  size  and  shape  of  a straight  corn-cutting 
knife.  It  is  also  the  general  weapon.  It  is 
wonderful  in  how  many  ways  the  Burman  can 
use  it.  A skilled  jungle  man  in  the  olden  days 
could  go  into  the  forest  with  nothing  but  a dah, 
and  emerge  in  a day  or  two  with  a complete 
and  well-made  bullock  cart. 

In  a house  large  enough  to  have  two  stories, 
the  upper  one  is  never  above  the  lower,  but  is 
placed  at  the  back,  so  that  the  two  are  like 
steps.  If  he  can  help  it,  no  Burman  will  live 
or  sleep  beneath  the  room  in  which  another 


no  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

lives  or  sleeps.  When  we  started  our  school 
we  did  not  have  room  enough  in  the  dormitory; 
and  in  my  ignorance  I suggested  that  we  make 
“double-decker”  beds.  We  were  warned  before 
it  was  too  late. 

Below  the  upper,  or  back,  story  of  the  house 
is  the  stable  for  the  bullocks  and  carts.  The 
floor  of  the  bedroom  above  it  is  made  of  split 
bamboo,  and  has  cracks  about  an  inch  wide. 
vSo  the  air  in  the  sleeping  apartments  can  not 
be  very  wholesome;  and  it  would  be  almost 
unbearable  if  the  walls  were  not  made  of  bamboo 
matting  and  the  windows  kept  open  so  that  the 
breeze  can  have  free  course. 

The  roof  is  usually  made  of  short  pieces  of 
stripped  bamboo,  which  are  lapped  like  shingles. 
From  within,  it  is  possible  to  study  the  heavenly 
bodies  through  the  roof ; but  it  is  surprising 
howr  little  of  even  the  heaviest  rain  comes 
through,  when  once  the  wood  is  wet. 

Every  year  a careful  house  owner  daubs  the 
walls  and  posts  of  his  house  with  a coat  of 
crude  petroleum,  and  this  preserves  the  light 
material  for  several  years.  The  average  life 
of  the  roof  and  walls  is  five  years,  when  they 
must  be  entirely  renewed. 

There  is  a little  corner  or  room  at  one  side  of 
the  front  of  the  house  which  is  set  aside  as  a 


Of  the  Barmans  Burmese  iii 

cooking  place.  The  “stove”  is  a low,  wide  box 
filled  with  earth.  On  it  are  large  stones  on 
which  the  cooking  utensils  are  placed,  and 
among  which  the  fire  is  built.  The  rice  is  cooked 
in  an  earthen  pot ; but  the  most  common  utensil 
is  a large,  shallow  iron  bowl  in  which  many 
foods  are  boiled  in  grease.  The  Burman  is 
very  fond  of  fatty  foods. 

Beds  are  usually  made  up  on  the  floor,  but 
some  have  a low  wooden  bed  with  bamboo  strips 
for  springs.  A double  mat  or  thin  mattress  is 
placed  on  top  of  the  bamboo  strips.  The  pillow 
is  round  and  high  and  hard.  There  are  no 
chairs,  and  a mat  on  the  floor  or  a low  platform 
serves  as  a table. 

Except  in  the  larger  towns,  where  there  are 
sanitary  laws  rigidly  enforced,  all  refuse  and 
foul  matter  is  let  drop  through  the  floor  of  the 
house,  or  dumped  into  the  yard  or  street.  It 
is  no  trouble  at  all  to  do  the  sweeping.  During 
the  rainy  season  the  water  is  usually  a foot 
or  more  deep  beneath  the  house,  and  all  wastes 
go  into  that.  One  can  easily  imagine  the  mess 
that  is  presented  at  the  subsidence  of  the 
stagnant  water.  If  it  were  not  for  the  animal 
and  insect  scavengers,  conditions  would  be  in- 
deed deplorable.  But  chickens,  ducks,  crows, 
vultures,  dogs,  pigs,  and  ants  attack  the  waste, 


1 12  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

and  thus  save  the  lives  of  the  people  from 
many  epidemics.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  these 
filth  consumers  have  the  freedom  of  the  house 
and  are  never  killed? 

In  such  a house,  and  under  such  conditions, 
little  Burmese  boys  and  girls  come  into  the 
world.  And  yet  their  early  years  are  happy 
ones.  They  are  named  according  to  the  day  of 
the  week  on  which  they  were  born,  to  this 
extent:  with  each  day  of  the  week  go  certain 
letters  of  the  Burmese  alphabet,  and  the  initial 
letter  of  the  child’s  name  must  be  one  of  the 
letters  which  go  with  his  day.  There  are  no 
family  names,  and  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
members  of  the  same  family  by  any  similiarity 
of  names.  But  at  times  there  is  an  intentional 
likeness  in  sounds,  as  witness  the  following 
four  names  of  boys  in  the  same  family:  Maung 
Thaw,  Po  Kaw,  Po  Pyaw,  Ba  Kyaw. 

As  may  be  seen  from  these  four,  the  names 
are  usually  composed  of  two  monosyllabic 
words.  Much  more  so  than  in  English  they  are 
taken  from  the  common  nouns  of  the  language. 
In  our  language  we  have  the  family  names, 
Black,  Gardener,  House,  Rose,  Kitchen,  etc.,  all 
of  which  are  in  ordinary  use  as  common  nouns. 
In  Burma  practically  all  of  the  names  are  of 
this  sort;  and  many  of  them  are  such  grotesque 


Of  the  Burmans  Burmese  nj 

combinations  that  they  sound  very  strange  to 
us.  They  might  be  anything  from  Beautiful 
Love,  Golden  Rice,  and  Fragrant  Flower,  to 
Hot  Needle,  Cross  Wife,  and  Cocoanut  Oil. 
Maung  is  the  common  word  for  Mr.,  and  Ma 
for  Miss  or  Mrs.  Sometimes,  because  of  his 
small  size  as  a baby,  a boy  will  be  given  the 
name  Little  Mister  (Maung  Ngae)  or  some 
other  name  to  indicate  a tiny  body;  and  then 
he  will  grow  up  to  be  quite  a large  man,  and 
will  be  ashamed  to  be  called  little.  So  he  has 
the  privilege  of  changing  his  name  to  Big 
Mister  (Maung  Gyi). 

While  women  and  girls  are  not  looked  down 
upon  in  Burma  as  in  many  other  countries  of 
the  East,  yet  boys  are  more  desirable,  and  the 
Burman  “lets  the  women  do  the  work”  more 
than  Westerners  like  to  see.  The  husband 
precedes  his  wife  on  the  street,  and  she  carries 
the  bundles.  Only  boys  are  thought  to  be 
worth  educating.  But  in  babyhood  both  boys 
and  girls  are  treated  much  the  same. 

Among  the  first  lessons  the  little  ones  must 
learn  are  getting  used  to  the  hot  sun  and  enjoy- 
ing a cold  bath.  Not  for  them  the  thick  sun- 
helmet  of  the  European,  so  they  crawl  about 
bareheaded,  meanwhile  developing  a thick  crop 
of  coarse,  black  hair.  Almost  white  at  birth, 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


1 14 


The  Boys  Find  Delightful  Climbing  Places  among  Old  Shrines 

mother  does  not  scruple  to  expose  the  tiny 
bare  body  to  the  mid-day  sun  for  a time  each 


Of  the  Burmans  Burmese  7/5 

day  to  accustom  it  to  the  glare  and  actinic 
rays.  So  it  isn’t  long  till  babies  might  be 
likened  to  roasted  coffee  beans. 

With  most  Burmans  the  daily  bath  is  a joy; 
and  they  keep  their  bodies  and  clothes  scrupu- 
lously clean.  Still,  few  babies  are  naturally 
aquatic,  and  they  must  be  taught  to  like  the 
water.  It  is  a common  sight  to  see  a mother 
with  her  diminutive  charge  at  the  bath.  At 
a certain  time  in  the  morning  she  takes  the 
little  one,  perhaps  not  able  to  sit  up  alone  yet, 
sets  it  on  a stone  at  the  front  steps,  and  pours 
water  over  its  little  body  by  the  pail  full.  Of 
course  the  operation  is  accompanied  by  lusty 
howls  from  the  victim,  punctuated  by  blubbers; 
but  the  motto  in  this  regard  is,  Spare  the  water 
and  spoil  the  child;  so  the  unfeeling  parent  is 
unconcerned.  Consequently  the  babe  soon 
learns  to  laugh  and  crow  all  through  the  deluge ; 
and  if  there  is  a stream  or  pond  near  his  home, 
he  grows  up  to  take  to  water  like  a duck. 

Both  sexes  run  around  absolutely  naked  till 
they  are  five  or  six  years  old.  The  little  girls 
are  given  the  task  of  taking  care  of  their  little 
brothers,  even  when  that  same  little  brother  is 
nearly  as  big  as  his  big  sister.  And  so,  as  the 
little  governess  plays  with  the  neighbor  girls 
she  will  carry  baby  brother  astride  her  hip, 


1 1 6 In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

holding  him  on  with  one  arm  and  playing  with 
the  other.  I have  seen  some  lazy  brothers 
carried  this  way  when  they  were  so  big  that 
their  feet  almost  touched  the  ground.  This 
would  give  every  little  Burmese  girl  curvature 
of  the  spine,  were  it  not  that  when  she  is  tired 
of  him  on  one  hip  she  deftly  switches  him  over 
to  the  other  “on  the  fly.”  And  then,  too, 
girls  and  women  carry  their  burdens  on  their 
heads,  and  this  gives  them  an  erect  carriage; 
while  the  men  never  do,  and  so  have  round 
shoulders.  The  straddle  of  mother’s  or  sister’s 
hip  while  children  makes  the  Burmese  adult 
walk  with  a spraddle  that  is  far  from  elegant. 

When  little  Maung  or  Ma  put  on  clothes  each 
dresses  just  exactly  as  father  or  mother  does, 
and  incidentally  tries  to  imitate  the  parent  in 
dress  effects.  Their  head  gear  is  different 
however.  They  wear  nothing  to  correspond  to 
hats  yet;  but  the  boy  lets  his  hair  grow  long, 
and  it  is  tied  around  with  a string  tight  to  his 
head,  the  ends  dangling  out  behind  like  the 
tops  of  a bunch  of  green  vegetables.  The  little 
girl  either  follows  his  style  or  may  do  hers  up 
in  a little  knot  on  top. 

About  the  time  the  boy  begins  to  emerge 
from  babyhood  to  boyhood,  he  is  sent  to  the 
kyaung,  or  monastic  school.  The  kyaungs  are 


Of  the  Bur  mans  Burmese  nj 

usually  located  in  a secluded  part  of  the  village 
or  town,  and  are  surrounded  by  a court  inclosed 
with  a cactus  hedge  or  tall  fence.  The  priests 
are  of  all  ages,  and  live  together.  They  carry 
umbrellas  or  large  palm-leaf  fans  to  protect 
themselves  from  the  sun,  and  are  given  to 
betel-nut  chewing,  expectorating  the  red  juice 
in  evety  direction. 

The  kyaung  serves  as  a primary  boarding 
school,  the  priests  taking  full  charge  of  the  young- 
sters. During  the  two  years  they  remain,  the  little 
fellows  act  as  servants  to  the  priests,  carrying 
water,  cooking  food,  and  attending  them  on 
their  journeys,  for  a priest  must  not  carry  a 
burden.  They  do  not  don  the  yellow  robe 
during  these  two  years,  but  their  heads  are 
shaved.  They  are  compelled  to  attend  school 
for  some  time  each  day,  and  are  taught  the 
forms  and  prayers  of  the  Buddhist  religion, 
and  incidentally  to  read,  write,  spell,  and  figure. 
Thus  every  male  Burman  is  able  to  read  and 
write,  a great  advantage  these  people  have 
over  the  other  peoples  of  the  East.  Practically 
all  of  their  mental  work  is  memorizing,  the 
priests  having  whole  books  by  heart. 

While  the  boys  are  attending  this  school  their 
lot  is  not  hard.  After  duties  are  done  they  have 
their  fun  as  all  boys  do  the  world  around. 


ii8 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Usually  the  food  is  good,  having  been  begged 
from  door  to  door  from  a liberal  people  who  are 
glad  to  get  merit  by  feeding  the  priests.  When 
the  time  is  up  the  boys  may  return  home,  as 


The  Boys  Attend  the  Priests  and  Learn  their  Lessons  at  the  Kyaung 


most  of  them  do ; or  they  may  remain  and 
after  ten  years  become  priests  and  live  an 
easy  and  meditative  life.  The  priest  must 
forego  the  joys  of  home  and  family,  but  he  has 
a part  in  much  of  the  pleasures  of  his  people, 
since  all  good  times  are  had  in  the  name  of 
religion. 

Meanwhile  the  little  girl  is  helping  mother 


Of  the  Barmans  Burmese  iiq 

at  home.  In  the  early  dawn  she  is  up  to  help 
pound  the  husk  off  the  rice  for  the  day’s  food. 
She  learns  just  how  to  cook  the  rice  in  the  little 
earthen  pot  set  on  three  stones  with  the  fire 
between.  She  acquires  the  art  of  putting  the 
right  ingredients  and  the  right  amount  of  each 
into  the  curry  to  make  it  tasty,  which  is  a culin- 
ary accomplishment  not  easily  acquired.  As  soon 
as  the  meal  is  cooked  she  dashes  water  on  the 
remaining  half-burned  sticks  of  wood,  with  a 
fuel  economy  born  of  necessity. 

The  man  of  the  house  has  been  at  work  in  the 
fields  while  mother  and  daughter  have  gone  to 
the  market  to  buy  food  for  the  day;  and  break- 
fast is  not  eaten  till  about  ten  o’clock,  although 
when  first  getting  up  they  often  eat  a light 
lunch  and  drink  some  hot  tea.  The  family 
surround  a clean  mat  spread  on  the  floor  or 
on  the  ground  under  the  house,  and  the  rice 
and  curry  pots  are  placed  in  the  center.  Each 
person  has  a large  enamel  plate  or  banana  leaf, 
a small  bowl,  and,  if  the  curry  is  watery,  a crude 
spoon.  The  plates  are  heaped  high  from  the 
central  receptacle  with  the  use  of  a half  cocoanut 
shell  or  the  bare  hand.  The  eating  proceedure  is 
without  ceremony,  and  consists  of  first  mixing 
a little  curry  with  a little  rice  at  the  base  of 
the  mountain  of  that  article  on  the  plate, 


120  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

taking  a surprisingly  large  wad  of  the  mixture 
between  the  thumb  and  the  first  two  fingers, 
then  switching  the  mouthful  onto  the  fingers 
with  the  thumb  just  back  of  it,  and  finally 
quickly  shooting  the  whole  into  the  mouth  with 
a flip  of  the  thumb.  This  is  the  main  article 
of  diet,  and  gives  the  name  to  all  meals — curry  - 
and-rice,  that’s  a meal.  It  may  be  topped  off, 
among  the  better  classes  or  on  special  occasions, 
with  other  viands;  but  curry  and  rice  provide 
the  staples.  The  food  is  eaten  very  rapidly, 
and  there  might  be  more  indigestion  if  the 
rice  were  not  easily  digested  and  the  curry 
stimulating. 

After  breakfast,  the  father  lies  down  for  a 
snooze  till  about  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon, 
a wise  custom  in  such  a hot  climate.  Then 
if  he  is  industrious,  as  industry  goes  in  Burma, 
or  if  necessity  demands,  he  works  till  sundown. 
The  heaviest  meal  of  the  day  is  taken  in  the 
evening. 

Meanwhile,  a very  important  part  of  the  day’s 
program  is  performed  by  the  mother  and  small 
children.  They  take  the  midday  nap,  too, 
but  not  before  the  noontide  wash  and  bath. 
First,  the  mistress  gathers  together  the  para- 
phernalia for  the  operation.  Under  one  arm 
she  carries  the  daily  wash,  consisting  perhaps 


Of  the  Burmans  Burmese 


121 


of  three  or  four  garments.  In  her  hand  she 
grasps  a stick  about  the  size  and  shape  of  half 
a broom  handle.  She  takes  an  old  strip  of 
cloth,  wraps  it  round  and  round  itself  into  a 
circle  till  it  looks  like  a doughnut,  and  places 
it  on  her  head.  This  forms  a nest  for  the 
roundbottomed  water  jar,  and  protects  her 
head  as  she  carries  it.  As  nearly  as  they  can  the 
children  equip  themselves  like  the  mother;  and 
then  all  set  off  for  the  washing  place,  the  little 
ones  bearing  their  small  jars  on  their  heads  as 
jauntily  as  they  would  wear  hats. 

Every  neighborhood  has  a place  to  wash 
body  and  clothing.  It  may  be  a stream  or  a 
lake.  Often  it  is  an  open  well,  perhaps  without 
a curb  to  keep  the  foul  water  from  draining 
back  in.  The  first  house  we  lived  in  at  Meiktila 
was  on  the  shore  of  Meiktila  Lake,  the  water 
of  which  is  used  by  natives  and  Europeans  for 
drinking  and  all  other  purposes,  there  being 
no  wells. 

I will  describe  the  scene  we  witnessed  every 
noon  on  the  shore  of  this  lake.  Be  it  under- 
stood that  the  civil  authorities  use  every 
legitimate  means  to  keep  this  water  pure.  No 
sewage  is  supposed  to  go  into  it,  and  bathing 
in  it  is  prohibited. 

Our  Burmese  mother  and  her  two  little  girls 


122  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

approach  the  bank  and  join  the  group  already 
there.  Near  the  water’s  edge  are  several  flat 
stones  and  slabs  of  wood.  She  fills  her  water 
pot  at  the  lake  and  squats  down  with  it  by  a 
stone — her  washboard,  if  you  please.  Her  soiled 
iongee  (skirt)  is  extracted  from  the  bundle,  and 
thoroughly  wetted  and  soaped.  It  is  then  placed 
in  a wad  on  the  stone  and  vigorously  hammered 
with  the  stick.  This  primitive  washing  machine 
works  on  the  same  principle  as  the  up-to-date, 
electrically-run  affairs,  and  when  the  method 
is  energetically  and  patiently  applied  it  does 
the  work  as  thoroughly.  The  soapy  water  is 
forced  through  the  cloth  and  removes  the  dirt. 
When  the  garment  is  well  cleansed  and  rinsed 
she  spreads  it  out  on  the  grass,  and  the  beating 
sunshine  does  more  than  a drying  work  upon  it. 
The  girls  imitate  the  mother  and  operate  on  their 
own  little  garments,  but  usually  the  mother  has 
to  finish  the  work  they  start. 

The  other  garments  are  washed  in  due 
course,  and  then  she  takes  her  bath.  Un- 
fastening her  sack-like  Iongee  at  the  waist,  she 
fastens  the  top  of  it  above  her  breasts,  the 
bottom  reaching  to  her  knees.  Then  her  light 
coat  is  removed  and  she  is  ready  for  the  water. 
Filling  the  water  pot,  and  grasping  the  top 
of  it  firmly  with  both  hands,  she  suddenly 


Of  the  Barmans  Burmese 


123 


raises  it  and  turns  it  up-side-down  over  her 
head — a shower  bath  de  luxe ! If  she  would  have 
it  run  slowly  she  fits  the  mouth  of  it  more 
tightly  on  her  head,  and  the  water  trickles 
down. 

When  well  soaked  in  this  way,  she  applies 
the  soap;  and  does  it  by  simply  inserting  one 
arm  and  hand  inside  the  cloth  bathroom  formed 
by  her  longee,  and  holding  the  top  of  the  longee 
tightly  about  her  shoulders  with  the  other 
hand.  When  this  is  finished  she  rinses  off  the 
soap  by  the  shower  method,  gathers  up  the 
recently  washed  and  now  dry  longee  from  the 
grass,  slips  it  over  her  head  and  down  over  the 
wet  one,  and,  while  holding  the  dry  one  in  place, 
unfastens  the  wet  from  beneath  and  lets  it  drop 
to  her  feet.  She  then  adjusts  the  dry,  steps  out 
of  the  wet,  and  stands  forth  clean,  having  per- 
formed her  ablutions  in  public  with  all  decency 
.and  womanly  modesty. 

Next,  the  garment  she  has  used  as  a bathroom 
is  washed,  and  while  it  is  drying  she  sits  on  her 
heels,  puffs  at  a big  cigar,  and  gossips  with  her 
fellow  washers.  The  little  ones  have  gravitated 
to  the  water,  in  spite  of  the  prohibiting  sign, 
and  now  sport  in  high  glee.  What  matters  if 
some  can  not  swim?  They  turn  their  water 
pots  up-side-down  in  the  water,  and  the  captive 


124 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


air  makes  of  them  excellent  floats.  Also,  they 
form  airbags  for  the  same  purpose  by  taking 
off  their  soaked  and  almost  air-tight  longees, 
fixing  them  like  a sack,  and  with  a quick  move- 
ment filling  them  with  air  and  plunging  their 
openings  under  the  water.  Poverty  is  the 
father  of  invention. 

The  frolic  and  gossip  over,  the  whole  company 
step  into  the  lake  a few  feet,  right  wdiere  the 
washing  has  been  going  on  and  all  the  dirty 
water  has  drained  back  in,  and  fill  their  jars 
to  be  carried  back  home  for  drinking  and  cook- 
ing purposes.  In  fact,  the  average  Burman, 
if  he  thinks  about  it  at  all,  seems  to  work  on 
the  theory  that  water  is  water,  and  in  some  way 
purifies  itself.  Anyway,  if  it  looks  fairly  clean 
it  is  all  right.  While  such  things  are  not  common, 
we  have  seen  a man  wade  down  into  a pond 
in  the  dry  season,  push  away  the  green  scum 
on  the  water  from  the  place  where  he  stood, 
wash  his  feet  and  legs,  cleanse  his  mouth  and 
teeth,  and  then  fill  his  cans  with  drinking  water 
from  exactly  the  same  spot.  One  wonders  how 
they  manage  to  live  through  such  practises. 
The  truth  is,  in  many  cases  they  do  not. 
As  to  those  who  do  manage  to  live  their  alloted 
time,  shall  we  say  for  them  that  the  germ  theory 
does  not  work  in  Burma;  or  is  the  following 


Of  the  Burmans  Burmese  125 

explanation  more  satisfactory?  By  the  diseases 
which  result  from  unsanitary  conditions,  such  as 
plague  and  cholera,  very  large  numbers  are 
taken  off  every  year.  But  many  always  escape, 
because  of  an  unusually  good  physique  or  other 
favorable  conditions;  and  in  thus  being  able 
to  hold  the  germs  at  bay  they  build  up  a degree 
of  immunity  to  these  diseases,  which  immunity 
is  passed  on  to  succeeding  generations.  For 
it  does  seem  true,  as  someone  has  said,  that 
there  are  those  of  the  natives  of  the  East  who 
“could  swallow  a spoonful  of  plague  germs  and 
not  get  the  plague.”  Yet  one  of  them,  if  he 
came  to  America,  might  very  easily  die  of  the 
measles. 

To  return  to  the  day’s  routine;  after  the 
customary  napping  time  in  the  hot  hours,  the 
waning  period  of  light  is  spent  as  far  as  possible 
in  taking  it  easy  till  evening  meal  time.  Games 
that  must  be  played  by  daylight  are  indulged 
in  by  the  youth.  But  this  recreation  hour, 
and  more  especially  the  joy-time  that  comes 
after  the  evening  meal,  are  so  different  from 
the  humdrum  of  the  Burmese  day  that  they 
deserve  special  treatment  in  the  chapter  on 
play  time. 

When  our  Burmese  boy  reaches  the  years  of 
adolescence  he  must  take  on  man’s  estate,  which 


126 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


he  does  outwardly  by  being  tattooed,  and  by 
donning  a bright-colored  band  of  silk  cloth 
around  his  head.  Of  course,  at  this  period, 
like  youth  the  world  over,  his  fancy  runs  to 
vari-eolored  clothes  of  the  flashy  type. 

The  tattooing  ordeal  is  an  event  and  a turning 
point  in  his  young  life,  for  the  way  he  bears 
it  has  much  to  do  with  his  rating  among  his 
fellows.  He  is  now  a man,  and,  if  he  values  his 
reputation,  not  a whimper  escapes  him  during 
the  painful  operation. 

His  sister,  too,  sees  a change  in  her  status 
in  her  early  teens.  Her  confirmation  for  the 
rating  of  a woman  is  shown  by  having  her  ears 
bored  for  ear-rings.  The  ceremony  is  made  a 
gala  occasion.  Relatives  and  friends  gather 
as  to  a festival,  and  there  is  much  music  and 
eating  and  a general  good  time.  However,  this 
follows  the  ceremony.  An  adept  at  ear-boring 
is  secured,  and  the  company  make  merry  as  he 
pierces  the  victim’s  ear  lobes.  This  is  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  little  sufferer  from  her 
pain. 

As  the  sores  heal  the  holes  are  kept  open 
and  made  larger  by  inserting  grass-blades  and 
wooden  pegs  in  them,  and  occasionally  twisting 
the  insertions.  The  usual  order  is  to  continue 
to  enlarge  the  openings  until  they  are  half  an 


Of  the  Barmans  Burmese 


127 

inch  in  diameter.  In  the  meantime  appropriate 
ornaments  are  worn  in  the  ears, — also  weights, 
which  help  to  enlarge  the  holes.  We  have  often 
seen  women  use  these  holes  for  cigar  carriers. 
Some  of  the  hill  tribes  extend  the  lobes  till  they 
are  mere  ribbons  of  flesh  reaching  to  the  shoul- 
ders, with  holes  so  large  that  a man’s  arm  could 
be  run  through  them. 

When  Ma  Burma  has  passed  the  ear-boring 
crisis  her  hair  is  bobbed  on  a level  with  her 
ear  lobes,  and  this  is  a sign  that  she  is  eligible  for 
marriage.  Before  long  she  will  perhaps  work 
(or  play)  at  selling  silks  in  the  bazaar.  The 
silk  bazaar  is  the  place  above  all  places  in 
Burma  for  the  beginning  of  romance.  Here 
she  makes  eyes  at  Maung  Burma,  who  at  this 
time  has  a surprising  interest  in  silks. 

The  courting  is  all  very  decorously  done,  how- 
ever, and  the  two  are  never  seen  alone  together. 
They  have  the  heart-beats  that  make  the  whole 
world  kin;  but  the  manner  of  approach  is  quite 
different  and  altogether  admirable  in  many 
ways.  His  evening  call  on  her  is  characteristic. 

About  nine  o’clock  young  Maung  sallies  forth 
with  a boon  companion,  who  is  on  the  same 
quest  after  his  own  particular  lady.  One  of  the 
two  will  perhaps  play  a flute  as  they  go  along 
together,  and  the  other  yells  a love  song  at  the 


128 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


top  of  his  voice.  The  ditty  seems  to  have 
neither  rhyme  nor  rhythm,  time  nor  tune.  No 
matter  if  the  neighbors  hear,  and  are  made 
aware  of  what  is  going  on.  Why  should  youth 
be  ashamed? 

The  serenade  continues  till  her  home  is 
reached  and  maybe  for  a while  in  front  of  it. 
Then,  the  accompanist  remains  in  the  street 
while  the  chief  actor  proceeds  up  the  steps  to  the 
little  veranda.  The  demure  miss  has  dressed 
herself  in  her  best  array  for  the  occasion,  and  now 
sits  waiting  for  her  caller.  Her  finest  silk 
clothing  is  in  display,  her  dark  hair  well  oiled 
and  bedecked  with  combs  and  sweet  scented 
little  white  flowers,  and  her  face — well,  it  is 
ghostly.  Burmese  women  use  a sort  of  creamy 
paste  on  their  faces  to  bleach  the  skin  whiter, 
and  it  does  have  a very  marked  effect.  Still, 
our  love-lorn  maiden  often  does  not  get  the  de- 
gree of  whiteness  she  desires,  and  so  leaves  some 
of  the  paste  on  her  skin.  It  makes  her  ashy 
pale,  but  she  deems  it  beauty.  The  layer  of 
paste  hardens,  and  if  she  moves  her  features 
it  will  crack  and  fall  off ; so  she  sits  very  stiffly, 
and  her  expressionless  countenance  resembles 
that  of  the  image  at  the  village  pagoda. 

Her  admirer  keeps  his  distance,  for  her  parents 
are  somewhere  within  hearing  or  sight,  and  it  is 


Of  the  Barmans  Burmese  I2Q 


5 


A Posed  Courtship 


ijo  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

very  improper  for  him  to  be  too  familiar.  But 
they  talk  and  laugh,  he  doing  most  of  it,  for 
she  is  shy;  and,  too,  she  must  be  careful  not  to 
crack  her  cosmetic. 

When  they  have  had  their  visit  out,  the 
attentive  swain  rejoins  his  fellow,  and  together 
they  go  to  visit  the  latter’s  young  lady.  While 
the  procedure  I have  described  is  not  by  any 
means  always  followed  in  every  detail,  yet  it 
is  a picture  of  a custom  that  prevails  among 
the  best  families.  When  marriage  is  settled 
upon,  the  parents’  consent  is  obtained  and  the 
dowry  arranged.  The  nuptial  ceremony  is 
held  at  the  bride’s  home,  and  the  bridegroom 
pays  the  expenses  of  the  feast  and  the  presents ; 
for  presents  are  given,  not  received,  by  the 
principals  at  a wedding.  It  could  not  be  said 
that  the  marriage  is  solemnized,  for  it  is  strictly 
a social  event,  not  civil  nor  religious.  No  priests 
are  present. 

In  the  old  days  the  bride  and  bridegroom  are 
said  to  have  fed  each  other  with  a little  rice  and 
to  have  given  each  other  a drink  of  tea;  and 
that  constituted  the  essential  part  of  the  unit- 
ing of  the  two.  But  now  even  that  custom  is 
not  followed,  and  the  union  is  cemented  by 
the  festivities  and  the  general  consent  of  all 
concerned. 


Of  the  Burmans  Burmese  131 

The  youthful  couple  launch  out  on  married 
life  by  remaining  a few  years  in  the  harbor  of 
the  wife’s  parental  home.  And  this  is  a safe 
course,  since  marriage  is  entered  into  very 
commonly  when  the  boy  is  seventeen  or  eighteen 
and  the  girl  fifteen  or  even  younger.  But  when 
he  is  able  to  support  a separate  home  they 
break  away,  and  only  then  attain  real  maturity. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THE  LURE  IN  THE  GOSPEL  NET 

1WAS  comfortably  settled  in  a second-class 
compartment  on  the  evening  train  north 
out  of  Rangoon.  Hoping  that  I would  not 
have  many  fellow-passengers  to  crowd  me,  at 
least  not  boresome  ones,  I spent  the  spare  time 
looking  out  of  the  windows  at  the  prospective 
travelers.  In  the  last  five  minutes  before  the 
departure  of  the  train,  a friendly -looking 
foreigner  piled  into  my  snugness  with  all  the 
numerous  traps  of  a moving  European  bent  on 
a long  journey. 

He  dropped  into  his  seat  as  the  train  pulled 
out,  and  we  passed  the  time  of  day. 

“How  long  since  you  came  from  America?” 
he  asked. 

Now  I had  been  in  the  country  just  three 
months,  but  I wasn’t  telling  anyone  about  it. 

“What  makes  you  think  I came  from  Ameri- 
ca?” I parried,  in  my  ignorance. 

He  laughed  good-naturedly.  “I  knew  it  as 
soon  as  you  opened  your  mouth,”  he  said. 


32 


The  Litre  in  the  Gospel  Net  ijj 

And  right  there  I began  to  learn  that  an 
experienced  traveler  can  tell  very  much  about 
a man  by  how  he  talks,  as  well  as  by  what 
he  says.  We  were  soon  conversing  pleasantly, 
and  he  told  me  that  he  was  a missionary  of  a 
society  doing  a large  work  in  Burma.  In  turn, 
I told  him  my  connections,  and,  as  we  became 
better  acquainted,  of  the  work  I was  attempting. 

“An  industrial  school  to  teach  the  Burmans 
how  to  work!”  he  ejaculated.  “Well,  I hope 
you  succeed,  for  the  country"  badly  needs  such 
institutions;  but  I fear  for  your  success.  Let 
me  tell  you  about  our  experience;  and,  by  the 
way,  there  is  an  interesting  little  tale  connected 
with  it.  ” 

I smiled  my  appreciation  of  any  former 
experience  in  technical  education  in  Burma,  for 
I had  heard  that  there  hadn’t  been  any,  outside 
of  jails  and  reformatories.  So  I settled  myself 
a little  more  comfortably  on  an  uncomfortable 
seat,  and  he  began.  In  substance  this  is 
what  he  told  me: 

“Several  years  ago  there  were  two  young  Ger- 
mans, brothers,  connected  with  a large  shipping 
firm  with  headquarters  at  Hamburg.  One  of  the 
young  men  was  sent  to  Bombay  to  act  as  agent 
for  the  firm  at  that  Indian  port.  The  other 
remained  in  Hamburg.  The  young  fellow  in 


134 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


India  took  in  the  sights  at  off  hours,  and 
observed  that  thousands  of  little  idol  gods  were 
sold  in  the  native  shops  to  Hindu  worshipers. 
These  were  fashioned  in  a crude  way  by  the 
hands  of  native  workmen.  He  conceived  the 
bold  idea  of  having  a large  number  of  these 
images  “made  in  Germany”  by  special  process 
and  shipped  in  quantities  to  India  to  under-sell 
the  local  idol  market.  That’s  what  I call 
business  instinct  gone  to  seed. 

“ He  communicated  the  scheme  to  his  brother 
in  Hamburg,  and  between  them  they  procured 
capital  and  started  a wholesale  idol  manufac- 
tory. The  first  shipment  was  large,  and  started 
safely  on  its  way.  And  just  about  that  time 
the  Bombay  brother  happened  into  a watch- 
meeting one  night  in  the  city,  and  was  con- 
verted. 

“ In  the  midst  of  his  new-found  joy  he  suddenly 
thought  of  the  connection  between  that  idol 
business  and  the  profession  of  a Christian. 
He  decided  that  the  only  consistent  thing  to  do 
was  to  turn  down  the  whole  proposition  im- 
mediately. He  hastily  cabled  to  Hamburg  to 
stop  the  shipment.  But  it  was  too  late.  Then 
he  wired  to  his  brother  that  he  could  not  go 
on  with  the  business,  and  would  not  receive 
the  shipment.  The  brother  pleaded,  threatened, 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  135 

and  stormed  in  vain.  The  idols  were  dumped 
on  the  wharf  at  Bombay,  and  I don’t  know 
what  ever  became  of  them. 

“ But  we  were  concerned  about  what  became 


The  Burmese  are  Good  Hands  at  Weaving  and  Make  Excellent  Silk  Cloth 


of  the  young  man.  He  made  up  his  mind  to 
stay  in  the  country  and  join  our  mission  force. 
He  was  well  suited  for  industrial  school  work, 
so  he  was  encouraged  with  good  backing  to 
start  one  here  in  Burma.  He  planned  a farm- 
school,  with  other  industries  to  follow.  Pos- 
sessed of  ingenuity  and  plodding  energy,  he 
soon  had  things  in  fine  shape, — good  land,  water 


136 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


piped  to  all  parts  of  it,  and  other  improvements. 
His  whole  scheme  was  something  like  yours, 
— but  he  failed.” 

“Why?”  I asked. 

“Well,  he  had  to  give  it  up,  mainly  because 
the  Burman  does  not  take  kindly  to  work 
with  his  hands.  He  does  not  connect  school 
with  work  at  all.  To  him  an  education  is  a 
means  to  escape  work.  Some  think  the  govern- 
ment has  encouraged  this  view  of  the  matter 
by  giving  a good  clerical  job  to  every  Burman 
who  can  use  his  head.  But,  in  the  nature  of  the 
ease,  all  over  the  East  there  is  a great  demand 
for  intellectual  ability.  The  schooled  Burman 
becomes  a sa  yay  gyi, — a chief  writer.  The 
great  majority  of  the  people  don’t  see  the  need 
of  industrial  education;  and  those  who  do  are 
perfectly  willing  that  it  shall  be  given  to  the 
other  man’s  boy.  It  will  go  hard  with  anyone 
who  starts  something  along  the  line  you  plan. 
The  societies  who  have  worked  here  for  scores 
of  years  have  given  it  up  till  the  country  as  a 
whole  makes  much  greater  progress  toward 
civilized  conditions.” 

With  this,  my  companion  turned  to  speak  with 
another  passenger  who  had  boarded  the  train, 
and  I was  left  to  my  own  thoughts.  They 
were  not  comforting.  I was  crushed,  and  did 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  137 

not  care  to  talk.  To  this  day  I do  not  believe 
that  he  was  trying  to  discourage  me,  but  he 
felt  that  I ought  to  know  the  truth  as  he  saw 
it,  and  as  experience  taught. 

The  train  roared  on  through  the  wide-stretch- 
ing fields,  white  under  the  moon,  and  as  I 
lay  there  and  looked  out  into  the  hazy  tropical 
night,  memories  of  the  past  three  months 
rushed  over  me  like  a flood.  We  had  left 
home  with  our  two  little  ones  with  the  highest 
of  hopes.  From  the  time  that  we  broke  up  till 
we  were  ready  to  settle  down  at  our  station  in 
Burma,  six  months  of  wearisome  journeying 
and  long  delays  had  passed.  We  had  been 
anxious  to  fit  into  our  new  home,  and  begin 
work.  The  only  available  house  was  a little  one 
which  we  had  to  rent,  in  the  native  part  of  the 
town.  It  had  an  iron  roof,  which  the  sun 
turned  into  the  top  of  a stove.  It  was  unclean, 
inhabited  by  roaches,  mice,  lizards,  and  other 
unpleasant  hosts.  The  surroundings  were  un- 
sanitary, and  swarmed  with  pariah  dogs,  crows, 
and  dirty  children.  The  smells  were  sickening. 
When  Mrs.  Thurber  first  stepped  up  to  the  door 
of  our  abode-to-be  and  looked  in,  she  said  noth- 
ing. But  in  a moment  she  leaned  against  the 
door-post  and  burst  into  tears — just  like  a 
woman.  And,  just  like  a man,  I wanted  to 
follow  her  example  but  didn’t  dare. 


Remarkably  Intricate  Wood  Carvings  Executed  by  Burinans 

138 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  ijq 

Then,  just  when  I had  gotten  a good  start  on 
the  language,  which  I was  told  must  be  gotten 
in  the  main  the  first  year  or  not  at  all,  we  were 
told  that  we  must  start  the  school  right  away, 
or  no  more  money  could  be  solicited.  However 
that  was,  money  had  ceased  to  come  in  on  the 
fund.  And  more,  the  native  custodian  of  the 
money  already  gathered  had  dipped  his  hand 
into  the  bag  and  “borrowed”  a large  share  of 
the  cash  in  hand.  There  was  no  help  available 
from  the  mission  then;  and  so  we  had  about 
$150  with  which  to  build  an  institution. 

And  then  this.  We  were  planning  to  make 
the  industries  the  attractive  feature  of  the 
school.  We  knew  that  the  boys  would  not  be 
drawn  by  the  truths  of  Christianity;  not  at 
first.  But  the  trades  were  to  be  the  lure  in  the 
gospel  net.  We  deceived  no  one,  nor  expected 
to  do  so ; for  the  natives  generally  know  what  the 
chief  purpose  of  the  missionary  is.  We  would  do 
just  as  we  agreed,  teach  trades  thoroughly,  and 
force  no  one  to  accept  our  views.  Yet  we  would 
all  the  time  hope  and  pray  and  work  to  the  end 
that  some  boys  would  see  in  passing  the  greater 
good  of  the  heart  education  that  Christianity 
affords. 

But  if  our  attraction  wouldn’t  attract,  what 
then?  We  could  not  hope  to  compete  success- 


140  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

fully  with  the  schools  already  established, 
which  gave  attention  to  intellectual  education 
alone. 

So  in  this  our  land  of  promise,  cities  of 
hopelessness  were  being  built,  walled  up  to 
heaven,  and  peopled  with  giants.  And  we, 
poor,  insignificant  Calebs  and  Joshuas,  were 
presuming  to  hope  that  they  could  be  subdued. 

Right  there  on  the  train  that  night  was 
fought  the  battle  and  was  won  the  victory  that 
for  me  had  everything  to  do  with  our  future 
work.  But  I did  not  fight  it  alone.  I merely 
accepted  the  victory  that  was  gained  for  me 
by  One  long  ago.  I found  that  I was  not  dis- 
couraged, only  discomfited  for  a while.  And 
it  is  hoped  that  the  reader  will  draw  the  right 
conclusion  from  this  recital;  and  that  is,  that 
every  worker  for  God  has  such  experiences 
time  and  again,  when  the  emotions  overtop  the 
faith  and  hope  for  a little  period,  after  which 
the  will  to  do  and  dare  for  God  emerges  with  a 
baptism  of  strength  that  knows  no  defeat. 

We  brushed  away  our  tears;  for  this  was  only 
one  side  of  things  as  they  were.  There  were 
many  compensating  joys:  the  new  sights  to 
see,  a genial  people  to  get  acquainted  with,  a 
language  to  conquer,  a consciousness  that  we 
were  greatly  needed,  a vision  to  materialize, 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  141 

abundance  of  hard  work  to  help  forget,  and 
above  all,  souls  to  see  accept  Christ. 

The  obvious  first  thing  was  to  start  some- 
thing to  prove  that  we  meant  to  make  good. 
So  we  rented  a large  room  in  an  old  brick 
building  that  had  stood  vacant  for  some  time, 
and  opened  school.  David  Hpo  Hla  and 
Maung  Ba  Tin,  two  of  our  Burmese  workers, 
came  up  from  Lower  Burma  to  teach  in  the 
vernacular.  We  bought  some  old  benches,  a 
table  or  two ; and  a washstand  served  as  a 
teacher’s  desk.  Some  boys  sat  on  the  floor  at 
first,  but  it  was  largely  plaster  and  dirt,  and 
good  school  work  can  not  be  done  on  the  floor. 

Carpentry  was  the  first  trade  taught,  for 
several  reasons:  I had  had  some  experience  in 
woodworking,  we  needed  school  furniture  right 
away,  and  of  the  practical  trades  the  Burman 
has  the  least  objection  to  it.  He  has  a natural 
ability  in  wood-carving.  We  early  saw  that  it 
would  not  be  wise  to  introduce  any  modern 
complicated  tools  or  machinery;  for  we  wanted 
to  teach  them  just  as  they  would  have  to  do 
when  they  left  us.  The  Chinese  are  the  best 
carpenters  and  cabinet  makers  in  the  country; 
so  we  hired  an  old  Chinese  carpenter  to  let  the 
boys  look  at  him  work  while  he  made  some 
school  desks  for  us.  But  he  couldn’t  make  a 


142 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


desk  without  a pattern,  and  a picture  wouldn’t 
do.  A drawn  plan  he  couldn’t  get  into  his 
head  at  all.  So  I went  to  work  and  made  a 
seat  group  for  an  example,  and  after  that  he  did 
quite  well. 


A Corner  of  One  of  our  First  School  Rooms  with  our  Home-Made  Desks 


About  twenty  boys  attended  at  the  start; 
and  soon  this  number  was  increased  to  thirty. 
They  were  a playful  lot,  ranging  from  eight 
years  up  to  twenty-five,  and  in  education  they 
varied  all  the  way  through  the  common  school 
grades. 

Thus  far,  all  well  and  good;  but  we  could 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  143 

not  continue  long  at  that  rate.  There  was 
another  school  in  the  town  conducted  by  another 
society;  and  it  was  large  and  well  located  and 
equipped.  We  did  not  wish  to  antagonize  it 
in  its  line  of  book  education  and  training  for 
government  service.  Our  line  was  industrial 
combined  with  intellectual.  But  as  soon  as  all 
the  school  furniture  we  could  afford  was  com- 
pleted, we  had  no  more  use  for  the  Chinese 
carpenter,  for  two  reasons:  first,  he  couldn’t 
teach  because  he  was  cranky,  and  had  no  idea 
of  teaching  principles;  and  he  wouldn’t  make  an 
effort  to  teach  because  if  the  boys  learned  to  do 
as  well  as  he  did,  he  would  have  less  chance  to 
get  work  in  an  overstocked  labor  market. 
Second,  the  very  small  tuition  charge  that  we 
were  able  to  make  would  not  pay  his  wage,  and 
we  were  not  making  any  product  that  we  could 
sell. 

Finally,  all  our  difficulties  resolved  them- 
selves into  the  one  of  procuring  money  to  buy 
land,  build  workshops  and  equip  them,  and  pay 
teachers;  that  is,  to  get  a fair  start  at  such  a 
program,  so  that  something  could  be  manu- 
factured that  would  make  the  trades  largely 
self-supporting.  It  was  unheard-of  to  raise  any 
large  amount  of  money  for  Christian  schools 
from  among  the  natives  of  Burma.  Yet  as  we 


144 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


prayed  and  worked,  the  thought  pressed  in 
upon  us  that  we  should  do  something  right 
there  to  get  the  necessary  money. 

So  the  day  came  when,  with  not  any  more 
faith  than  we  needed,  we  started  our  big  drive; 
or,  since  the  East  can’t  be  driven,  perhaps  we 
had  better  call  it  a big  push.  Our  good  brother 
A.  W.  Steevens,  the  government  prosecutor, 
was  an  excellent  standby,  and  gave  valiant  aid. 
Small  amounts  were  raised  in  various  ways, 
but  it  was  felt  that  the  most  promising  sources 
of  supply  would  be  among  the  merchants  of 
Rangoon  and  in  the  oil  fields  of  the  Irrawaddy; 
the  first,  because  the  business  men  sensed  the 
need  of  the  country  more  than  others,  and  the 
second  because  it  was  a prosperous  section 
where  there  were  many  warm,  liberal  American 
hearts.  Brethren  Votaw  and  Steevens  solicited 
the  business  men  in  the  city  and  met  with 
good  success.  The  money  did  not  come  in  large 
amounts,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  they 
were  soliciting  non-Christian  men  who  were  not 
at  all  supposed  to  be  favorable  to  Christian 
missions.  Our  hearts  bounded  with  joy  when 
we  heard  that  one  wealthy  Chinese  wholesale 
merchant  had  given  'i,ooo  rupees  ($320). 

Then  we  were  ready  for  the  oil  country. 
Brother  Votaw  and  I were  to  make  the  attack, 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  145 

and  we  were  determined  to  make  it  a success. 
The  trip  was  not  without  attractive  features,  as 
may  be  understood  from  a description  of  the 
situation. 


The  First  Happy  School  Family 


Aside  from  the  work  of  the  American  mis- 
sionaries, oil-well  drilling  might  be  called  the 
American  occupation  of  Burma.  It  seems 
strange,  yet  it  is  said  to  be  true,  that  in  every 
oil  field  of  the  world  men  from  the  United 
vStates  superintend  the  drilling.  Mechanics  of 
other  nationalities  can  not  or  will  not  learn  the 
business.  It  is  the  only  trade  that  I have  ever 
heard  of  that  all  other  peoples  concede  is  not  in 


146  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

their  line.  Hundreds  of  drillers  are  brought 
half-way  around  the  world  at  great  expense,  are 
paid  large  salaries,  and  are  given  special  con- 
cessions, as  an  absolute  necessity  to  the  drain- 
ing of  petroleum  from  Burma’s  subterranean 
treasure  houses. 

Standard  Oil  has  invaded  Burma,  as  every- 
where, but  only  in  the  shape  of  the  innocent- 
looking five-gallon  can.  It  is  the  best  oil  sold 
in  the  country,  and  is  indispensable  for  good 
lamplight,  but  of  course  it  is  most  expensive. 
This  mighty  miracle  of  dread  American  trusts 
is  looked  at  askance  by  English  capitalists;  and 
every  time  a tentacle  of  the  great  octopus  feels 
for  a hold  in  British  territory,  it  is  promptly 
cut  or  circumscribed.  So  English  capital  works 
and  controls  this  field. 

The  center  of  interest  is  on  the  bank  of  the 
Irrawaddy  at  Yenangyaung,  about  halfway  up 
toward  Mandalay.  There  are  less-paying  lo- 
calities on  both  sides  of  the  river  for  many 
miles  up  and  down,  but  “Bad-smelling-water 
Creek”  (the  meaning  of  the  Burmese  name) 
is  the  part  which  is  especially  well-oiled  and  oil- 
welled.  The  field  is  somewhat  off  the  beaten 
path,  and  so  the  world  tourists  miss  it.  There 
isn’t  even  a railway,  and  we  approach  from 
the  south  on  the  broad  back  of  the  river.  Huge 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  147 

red  tanks  dotting  the  hills  first  greet  the  view; 
and  then  there  comes  into  the  range  of  vision 
what  at  first  appears  to  be  a forest  of  tall, 
bare  trees  back  among  the  hills.  These  soon 
resolve  themselves  into  derricks,  so  numerous 
and  close  together  that  they  seem  to  touch 
one  another  at  the  bases.  Our  little  launch 
edges  up  to  the  bank  at  the  best  landing,  and 
we  are  soon  bumping  along  in  our  bullock-cart 
conveyance  by  the  pumping  stations.  On  dry, 
bare  bluffs  overlooking  the  river  are  perched 
the  well-kept  and  roomy  bungalows  of  the 
officers  of  the  various  companies. 

A few  miles  more,  and  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  a lively  scene.  Many  of  the  readers  of  this 
know  too  well,  perhaps,  the  sights  and  sounds 
and  odors  of  an  oil  region.  I will  not,  therefore, 
attempt  to  describe  the  features  common  to  all 
fields;  but  some  of  the  characteristic  aspects 
will  take  your  attention. 

This  particular  field  is  most  remarkable  be- 
cause it  is  so  small  and  yet  so  inexhaustible. 
Within  an  area  no  larger  than  that  occupied 
by  an  ordinary  village,  there  are  hundreds  of 
wells  so  close  together  that  there  is  scarcely 
room  to  work  them.  A circle  with  a radius  of 
twenty-one  feet  is  all  that  can  be  gotten  for 
one  site.  The  sites  of  the  rival  companies  are 


148 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


all  intermingled,  and  many  wells  tap  the  terri- 
tory of  others.  This  causes  much  interchange 
of  oil  below — and  words  above  — the  surface 
before  the  matter  is  settled. 

There  is  much  ingenuity  displayed  by  the  field 
superintendents  in  getting  first  chance  and  best 
advantage  in  drawing  away  oil  from  adjacent 
territory.  But  this  rivalry  sometimes  works  to 
the  disadvantage  of  all  concerned,  as  the  follow- 
ing will  illustrate.  One  of  the  drillers  told  us 
that  as  usual  one  day  he  pumped  some  water 
into  his  well  so  that  he  could  draw  up  in  solution 
the  sediment  that  had  accumulated  by  the  drill- 
ing; but  as  fast  as  it  was  pumped  in,  the  water 
ran  off  into  the  oil  sand.  This  makes  no  small 
trouble  when  working  with  heavy  tools  at  a 
distance  of  two  thousand  feet  down,  and  he 
bothered  with  it  for  two  or  three  days  before  he 
discovered  what  was  the  matter.  Then  he  hap- 
pened to  be  talking  to  a neighboring  driller, 
who  said  in  the  course  of  the  conversation, 
“ I don’t  know  what  is  the  matter  with  my 
well.  I struck  water  day  before  yesterday,  and 
have  been  pumping  it  out  ever  since,  but  there 
is  no  end  to  it.”  One  was  pumping  the  same 
water  out  that  the  other  was  pumping  in. 

The  government  controls  the  depth  to  which 
the  drills  shall  go.  When  one  oil-sand  is  ex- 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  149 

hausted,  permission  is  given  to  go  deeper,  and 
there  is  a race  to  penetrate  the  next  stratum. 
And  there  is  always  oil  below.  This  has  been 
going  on  for  a period  of  over  thirty  years,  and 
millions  of  barrels  of  oil  have  been  drawn  from 
this  one  locality ; yet  still  “ gushers  ” are  common. 


Working  Oil  Wells  in  the  Old  Way 


Yenangyaung  was  worked  for  many  years 
before  modern  machinery  was  used.  In  the  olden 
time  the  Burmans  dug  shallow  wells,  and  with 
bucket  and  rope  drew  up  the  product.  Even 
now  a few  of  the  old  wells  are  being  worked, 
right  in  among  the  towering  derricks  and  amid 
the  chugging  of  many  steam  pumps.  These 
primitive  wells  are  now  about  four  hundred 


ijo  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

feet  deep,  and  about  the  width  of  an  ordinary 
water  well.  A man  is  let  down  by  a rope,  and 
he  fills  the  receptacle,  which  is  drawn  to  the 
surface  by  a number  of  Burmese  men  and 
women  pulling  the  rope  to  a certain  distance 
from  the  mouth  of  the  well  and  coming  back 
by  turns  to  get  a new  hold.  Oil  obtained  in 
this  way  is  usually  sold  to  the  large  companies 
at  about  one  dollar  a barrel. 

Each  Amercan  driller  has  a number  of  natives 
to  do  the  work  while  he  directs  it.  Many  of 
these  Burmese  mechanics  can  manage  the  drilling 
alone  when  all  goes  well,  but  none  seem  to  learn 
judgment  for  an  emergency.  Accidents  are 
common,  and  are  costly  if  not  met  by  expert 
knowledge. 

Here  are  Americans  who  have  seen  the 
world — hardy  “boys”  who  have  made  the 
rounds  of  Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  Illinois,  Texas, 
and  California,  who  have  “fished”  for  tools  in 
the  wells  of  Roumania  and  Russia,  heard  the 
bullets  whistle  in  the  anti-Armenian  riots  in 
Batum,  and  drilled  for  water  on  the  arid  plains 
of  west  Australia.  They  are  stalwart  men; 
rather  rough,  as  drillers  go,  but  withal  good- 
hearted.  The  work  and  the  region  do  not 
supply  much  that  would  soften  character. 
They  work  on  a three-year  contract  that  pro- 


The  Temporary  Work  Shop,  with  the  Boy*  all  Ready  for  Work 


ij2  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

vides  that  they  must  not  bring  wives  with 
them.  A few  wives  of  higher- wage  men  are 
there,  but  few  women  can  live  there  and  be 
satisfied,  for  there  is  little  to  attract. 

Set  down  in  that  bleak  place  and  compelled 
to  pay  close  attention  to  business,  with  only 
five  days  in  a year  vacation,  in  the  face  of 
every"  temptation  and  vice  that  the  Orient  can 
bring  to  bear,  the  men  do  not  find  conditions 
conducive  to  straight  living.  No  missionary 
organization  is  working  among  them.  In  spite 
of  their  independence  and  bravado  they  are 
“as  sheep  without  a shepherd.  ’’  There  is  about 
the  place  an  atmosphere  of  no-one-knows-nor- 
cares,  and  many  a man  goes  bad  and  never 
reaches  home  again. 

But  there  is  a brighter  side.  The  minimum 
wage  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a month, 
and  each  man  has  half  a large  bungalow,  rent 
free.  They  have  a “messing  allowance,’’  which 
enables  many  to  save  their  whole  salaries. 
Each  man  has  a pony,  and  they  frequently 
get  out  for  a short  hunt  in  the  jungle.  They 
have  subscribed  for  and  built  a pleasant  club- 
house, where  there  is  plenty  of  reading  and 
entertainment  provided.  Some  of  the  men  who 
have  been  ambitious  and  have  been  careful 
of  their  habits  and  health  have  risen  to  better 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net  153 

positions,  and  are  able,  after  being  in  the  field 
for  fifteen  years,  to  retire  on  a comfortable 
income. 

We  found  nearly  every  man  we  met  hospitable 
and  generous  to  a fault.  Most  of  them  are  glad 
to  give  to  any  mission  enterprise.  In  the  course 
of  several  visits  among  them  we  received  from 
their  liberality  a large  part  of  the  fund  we 
were  raising. 

All  together  over  seven  thousand  rupees 
were  donated  in  Burma  for  the  school.  As 
soon  as  the  first  money  was  in  hand  we  bought 
25  acres  of  second-class  land  just  outside  the 
town  of  Meiktila.  It  was  in  small  pieces  and 
belonged  to  nine  different  owners.  Within  a 
few  days  after  the  purchase,  our  Chinese 
carpenter  was  beginning  the  creation  of  a 
temporary  workshop.  We  could  not  “hustle 
the  East,”  and  the  work  of  building  went  for- 
ward at  a snail’s  pace.  “Labor  troubles”  that 
Europe  and  America  never  know  caused  tedi- 
ous delays.  But  at  last,  two  years  after  we 
arrived,  the  first  building  was  ready  for  use. 
It  was  built  of  teak  wood,  the  best  in  the  coun- 
try, with  a cement  floor,  red  tile  roof,  and  sub- 
stantial bamboo  matting  for  walls;  and  it 
measured  thirty-two  by  seventy- two  feet. 

It  wasn’t  a pretentious  affair,  not  very 


The  First  School  Building 


The  Lure  in  the  Gospel  Net 


155 


beautiful,  but  to  us  it  meant  achievement. 
Our  vision  had  taken  shape  materially,  though 
the  battle  of  principles  was  yet  to  come.  Our 
boys  had  taken  hold  nobly,  and  had  disappointed 
prophecies  of  their  being  too  lazy  to  work. 
When  saya  gyi  (“chief  teacher” — the  mission- 
ary) said,  “Come  on,  boys,”  they  came;  and 
“coolie  work”  was  no  disgrace. 

The  holiday  on  which  we  moved  out  of  the 
hot,  close,  dirty,  smelly  town  schoolroom  to 
our  new  quarters  on  the  fresh-air  hill  rising 
gently  above  Meiktila  Lake,  was  a red-letter 
day.  We  celebrated  with  a house-cooling,  not 
a house-warming. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  TONGUE  AND  THE  SCRIPT 

THE  missionary  who  tries  to  get  the  heart 
of  a heathen  without  first  getting  his 
tongue,  ends  by  getting  his  shoulder — 
and  that  cold.  The  natives  of  Burma  are  just 
about  as  much  impressed  by  the  message  of  a 
foreigner  speaking  in  his  own  tongue  as  we  would 
be  if  an  Arab  should  visit  America  and  jabber 
at  us  Mohammedan  prayers  in  the  speech  of 
the  desert,  or  try  to  convert  us  to  belief  in  the 
Koran  scriptures  by  speaking  through  an  in- 
terpreter. The  languages  of  eastern  Asia  present 
an  appalling  obstacle  to  the  propagation  of  the 
gospel  by  Occidental  peoples. 

When  one  first  comes  into  contact  with  the 
people  he  is  impressed  by  the  glaring  and  ludi- 
crous mistakes  of  the  native  when  trying  to 
express  himself  in  English.  We  laughed  heartily 
and  knowingly  at  the  blunders  they  made, 
and  failed  utterly  to  temper  our  glee  with  the 
thought  that  our  cumbersome  attempts  at  the 
Burmese  would  be  far  more  laughable  to  them. 
They  laughed  last. 

156 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script  157 

In  passing,  it  is  well  to  know  that  the  mis- 
sionary- must  get  the  laughing  habit,  if  he 
hasn’t  it  already.  Not  indulgence  in  the  frivol- 
ous giggling  of  the  sentimentalist,  nor  in  the 
forced  laugh  of  the  maker  of  jokes;  but  the  really 
funny  things  in  life  do  not  come  too  often  for 
our  good,  and  when  they  do  it  is  well  to  give  way 
to  a diaphragm-shaking  laugh.  If  anywhere 
“a  merry  heart  doeth  good  like  a medicine,” 
it  doeth  it  in  the  mission  field. 

The  humor  of  the  language  blunderer  is  al- 
ways a cause  for  mirth.  We  can  all  laugh  at  one 
another’s  expense  in  this,  for  every  one  who 
tries  to  learn  a foreign  tongue  will  invariably 
carry  the  idioms  of  his  mother  tongue  over 
into  the  new  language,  and  of  course  make  many 
ludicrous  mistakes.  In  a country  like  Burma, 
where  so  many  languages  are  spoken,  and  all 
persons  with  any  claim  to  education  have  a 
trial  at  English  in  their  own  way,  mistakes  are 
so  common  that  they  cease  to  attract  notice. 
However,  many  a time  an  Englishman  or  an 
American  has  occasion  to  smile  at  the  efforts 
of  the  one  with  whom  he  is  talking.  And 
although  the  native  is  usually  too  polite  to  laugh 
in  our  faces  when  we  torture  his  language,  he 
has  a quiet  burst  of  humor  over  it  when  we 
are  not  around. 


158  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

A man  who  prided  himself  on  his  ability  to 
speak  English  glibly,  when  ordering  a pair  of 
shoes  specified  that  they  must  be  broad-toed, 
for  he  had  “thorns  between  his  fingers,”  (corns 
on  his  toes).  But  this  is  an  exception.  Usually 
the  correct  thought  is  conveyed,  but  the  idiom 
is  queer.  The  following  are  samples  of  letters 
we  have  often  received  from  parents  of  the 
boys  attending  our  school: — 

“Dear  Sir:  If  my  son  appears  late  at  your 
school  again  without  a chit  (note)  of  recom- 
mendation, kindly  slap  him  as  he  deserves. 
For  which  kind  favor  I will  ever  pray.” 

Another  parent  requested  that  her  boy  be 
excused  because  of  “domestic  troubles,”  which 
troubles  were  explained  to  be  the  cooking  of 
the  rice  for  dinner. 

The  teacher  urged  that  specific  reasons  be 
given  for  absence,  and  the  following  was  pre- 
sented: “San  Po  got  a sore  without  cause  on 
the  left  side  of  his  right  knee.  Pain  as  it  was, 
he  tried  his  best  to  attend  his  class  till  Thursday, 
after  which  he  was  entirely  confined  to  his 
bed.  Hardly  had  it  recovered  before  an  eye- 
sore made  its  appearance,  which  was  the  real 
cause  of  his  continued  confinement  during  the 
whole  of  last  week.  Therefore,  on  the  strength 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script 


159 


of  his  pains  I most  respectfully  beg  you  to 
excuse  him.” 

“Sir, — I am  Maung  Pu  pupil  of  you  write 
you  a letter  for  few  lines.  The  bee  stings  to  my 


The  Girls’  School  at  Meiktila,  Opened  in  Recent  Years 


face  for  this  reason  please  give  one  day  leave, 

• ) 1 

sir. 

A peddler  came  to  our  friend’s  door.  He 
was  a jolly  fellow  with  a broad  smile  congealed 
on  his  face.  In  the  course  of  a bantering  con- 
versation he  was  asked  his  name.  He  was  very 
proud  to  say  that  he  had  an  English  name. 


160  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

It  was  “Cheap  Jack.”  In  fact,  a number  of 
small  business  men  flaunt  this  name  in  front 
of  their  shops. 

The  public  letter  writer  is  very  common,  and 
is  often  seen  sitting  under  his  umbrella  in  a 
quiet  corner.  For  a nominal  fee  he  writes  for 
those  who  are  aspiring  after  respectability  or 
are  seeking  favors  from  the  higher  classes. 
Usually  he  does  a thriving  business.  If  his 
English  is  just  a smatter,  no  matter.  Perhaps 
he  has  the  F.  M.  (failed  matriculation)  degree 
from  the  university  of  Calcutta;  and  capital 
letters  after  one’s  name  are  enough  to  sub- 
stantiate any  claim  to  knowledge  in  the  eyes 
of  a large  class  of  his  customers. 

A friend  of  ours  tried  to  re-hire  a servant, 
whom  he  had  discharged  because  he  had  to 
leave  town.  The  servant  now  held  a good 
position  and  was  loath  to  leave  it,  although 
he  liked  his  former  master.  So  he  hired  a 
scribe  to  write  the  following  consoling  note: 
“Dear  Sir  you  salaam,  by  Rama  Because  to 
write  this  letter  your  letter  got  it  me  and  then 
reading  your  letter  I am  very  glad  to  see.  What 
can  i do  sir  My  sahib  cannot  go  from  here  I 
am  very  sorry  if  not  I had  come  there  I cannot 
come  very  Long  please  don’t  sorry  I request 
to  you.” 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script  161 

A native  Christian,  when  writing  to  his 
teacher,  sought,  for  variety’s  sake,  a synonym 
of  preserve,  and  rounded  off  his  epistle  with, 
“May  kind  Providence  pickle  you.” 

Signboards  make  interesting  reading,  and  it 
is  worth  a trip  around  Rangoon  to  discover 
new  creations.  Over  a diminutive  barber  shop 
is  one  bidding  us  “Well  Come,  My  Dear.” 
A rising  young  doctor  blazons  his  trade  with 
the  shingle,  “Maung  Loo  Galay,  vaccinated 
every  Thursday.”  A petty  merchant  gives 
promise  of  sticking  to  the  voyage  when  he 
announces  himself,  “Baboo  Khan,  Syrup  Sailor.” 
A beggar  carries  this  enlightening  inscription : — 

“Gentlemen  and  plea 
se  mercyupon  this 
poor  helpless  andl 
ame  man  ladies.” 

A Chinese  whiskey  seller  has  a large  sign 
with  the  picture  of  a bottle  at  the  side,  and  the 
words,  “Ah  Foke,  licensed  to  be  drunk  on  the 
premises  or  removed.” 

On  a bookstall  is:  “Books  writing  paper 
stationery  pencils  for  the  schoolboys  all  can  get.  ’ ’ 
And  on  a restaurant  appears:  “Meat,  fish, 
eggs,  curry,  palow  rice,  all  have  got.” 

The  following  in  front  of  a signboard  painter’s 
6 


162 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


place  gives  evidence  of  a very  peaceful  alliance : 
“L’entente  cordiale  of  brains,  wit,  art  and 
energy  in  reproducing,  designing,  printing  and 
engraving.  ” 

A quack  advertises  a preparation  which  is 
so  powerful  that  it  will  make  water  run  uphill, 
and  is  guaranteed  to  produce  a light-eom- 
plexioned  baby  “even  if  the  parents  are  the 
darkest  black.” 

To  return  to  the  language  of  the  country: 
The  most  difficult  part  of  the  study  of  the 
Burmese  is  the  first  part.  And  this  is  well, 
because  at  first  the  new-comer  goes  at  it  with 
the  most  enthusiasm.  Long  and  steady  appli- 
cation is  absolutely  necessary  in  mastering  the 
rudiments.  The  usual  initiation  into  the  mys- 
teries requires  from  six  to  ten  hours  a day  for 
the  first  year’s  work;  in  fact,  all  the  time  that  the 
brain  can  do  good  work.  A person  should  have 
no  other  work  or  responsibilities  other  than 
what  would  serve  as  a change  or  recreation. 
We  would  judge  that  this  first  year’s  work 
would  equal  about  three  year’s  foreign  language 
study  as  given  in  American  schools.  At  the 
end  of  this  period  one  is  expected  to  read 
anything  in  the  Gospel  of  John,  translate  at 
sight  the  first  four  chapters,  spell  correctly, 
name  any  common  object,  and  converse  freely 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script  i6j 

in  simple  conversation.  This  sounds  easy, 
but  there  is  a long  and  weary  road  to  it.  During 
the  second  year,  half  the  time  is  spent  on 
study,  and  after  being  two  years  in  the  field 
the  learner  is  able  to  take  the  second  examina- 
tion, which  is  as  far  as  most  candidates  go, 
though  then  they  are  usually  far  from  a mastery 
of  the  Burmese.  These  Mongolian  tongues 
have  absolutely  no  connection  with,  or  likeness 
to,  the  languages  of  the  West. 

The  missionary,  of  course,  can  work  for  souls 
more  or  less  indirectly  from  the  first.  At 
first  thought  it  seems  almost  a waste  of  time  to 
spend  so  much  time  learning  to  talk;  but  we 
must  keep  in  mind  that  he  is  not  learning 
Burmese  only,  but  also  Burma  and  the  Burman, 
all  of  which  is  necessary  to  success. 


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The  Beauty  of  the  Native  Script 


A prominent  factor  in  the  pronunciation  of 
Burmese  is  betelnut  juice;  for  many  of  the 
sounds  seem  to  be  modified  to  suit  a mouthful 


164  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

of  knn,  the  national  chew.  The  language  in 
writing  looks  like  soap  bubbles  and  horse  shoes 
playing  leap-frog.  It  is  read  from  top  to  bottom 
and  from  left  to  right,  as  in  English,  but  in 
handwriting  the  Burman  writes  each  letter 
backward.  The  sound  of  the  spoken  Burmese 
does  not  roll  off  the  tongue  as  smoothly  as  its 
written  representation  seems  to  roll  across  the 
page.  It  does  not  strike  the  ear  as  mellifluously 
as  does  the  Hindustani.  Really,  there  is  a lack 
of  euphony,  but  the  speaker  improves  on  this 
by  corrupting  certain  sounds  and  filling  in 
awkward  places  with  meaningless  syllables. 

Monosyllables  are  the  rule,  and  exceptions  to 
this  are  compounds.  The  alphabet  consists  of 
thirty-two  letters,  each  with  a sound  of  its 
own;  but  certain  appendages  are  added  to  all 
letters,  which  multiply  the  sounds  into  the 
hundreds.  With  a few  exceptions  the  sounds 
are  similar  to  those  in  English,  the  tendency 
being  to  have  no  vowel  sounds  at  the  beginning 
of  a word  nor  consonant  sounds  at  the  end. 
Many  of  our  English  words  end  in  ng,  and  many 
Burmese  words  begin  with  this  combination. 
Foreigners  generally  find  it  difficult  to  say  nga 
(fish).  To  be  exact,  words  do  end  in  consonant 
sounds,  but  only  half  of  their  full  value  in 
English  is  pronounced  in  Burmese.  For  in- 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script  165 

stance,  when  we  say  bit,  at  the  last  expulsion 
of  breath  we  let  the  tongue  drop  from  the  roof 
of  the  mouth  and  the  air  is  expelled  through 
nearly  closed  teeth;  but  the  Burman  says  it 
without  dropping  the  tongue  or  expelling  the 
breath.  Try  saying  it  as  he  does. 

Compared  to  the  number  who  try,  few 
foreigners  learn  Burmese  well ; and  the  same  can 
be  said  of  Burmans  learning  English.  One  can 
absorb  the  common  street  usage  of  Hindustani 
in  the  East,  just  by  often  hearing  ear-catching 
expressions  of  it.  But  Burmese  “goes  in  one 
ear  and  out  the  other”  without  an  accident. 

There  is  no  common  greeting  word  in  the 
Burmese  language.  The  native  of  India  says 
“Salaam,”  which  means  “Peace  be  with  you.” 
But  “Salaam”  does  duty  for,  “Good  morning,” 
“Thank  you,”  “Bon  voyage,”  “Good-by,” 
“Come  again,”  “Welcome,”  “You  are  right,” 
“My  respects  to  you,”  “Good  afternoon,” 
“Good  evening,”  and  “Good  night.”  But  the 
Burman  contents  himself  with  a smile  in  pass- 
ing, an  “Are  you  well?”  when  he  comes,  and  an 
“I  will  go”  when  he  goes. 

There  is  much  to  be  learned  about  the  ex- 
pression of  the  ideas  of  a people  by  the  way 
they  word  their  proverbs.  Truth  is  the  same 


mese  proverbs  with  the  corresponding  English 
ones : — 

In  a forest  of  pith  the  eastor-oil  plant  is  king. 
Among  the  blind  the  one-eyed  man  is  king. 

It  is  only  where  there  is  an  elevation  that  a 
shadow  is  east.  There  is  no  smoke  without 
some  fire. 

Should  the  front  part  of  the  house  be  hot, 
the  back  part  will  be  uncomfortable.  When 
chief  persons  disagree,  there  is  unhappiness  for 
all. 


t66  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

the  world  round,  but  the  similes  with  which  it 
is  expressed  often  differ.  Here  are  some  Bur- 


Boys  at  the  Monastery  School 


The  Tongue  and  the  Script  i6y 

Playinga  lute  near  a buffalo.  Casting  pearls 
before  swine. 

When  two  buffaloes  fight,  the  grass  between 
them  can  not  prevent  it.  On  two  horns  of  a 
dilemma. 

Day  does  not  dawn  because  the  hen  crows. 
This  is  said  to  an  interfering,  officious  woman. 

You  can’t  straighten  a dog’s  tail  by  threading 
it  through  a tube.  You  can’t  reform  a scoundrel. 

Though  the  dog  flea  may  jump,  he  raises  no 
dust.  This  is  said  to  little  people  who  try  to 
injure  big  ones. 

Though  the  hen  may  cackle  all  day,  she  lays 
but  one  egg.  What  will  be,  will  be. 

Teaching  the  king  of  the  crocodiles  the  water 
business.  Carrying  coals  to  Newcastle. 

Every  bird  is  as  beautiful  as  the  vulture.  As 
good  fish  are  in  the  sea  as  ever  came  out  of  it. 

Iron  destroys  and  rusts  itself.  Man  his  own 
enemy. 

In  the  following  rhyme  I have  put  a few  of 
the  idioms  which  are  peculiar  to  the  Burmese 
language : — 

A “little  man’’  is  Burmese  term  for  hoy; 

His  “ stomach’s  pleasant  ’’  when  he’s  full  of  joy; 

His  “life’s  no  good  ’’  when  he  is  pained  or  sick; 

He  says  “quick,  quick,”  when  we’d  say  very 
quick. 


i68 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Our  chairs  to  him  are  simply  “foreign  seats”; 

He  “finds”  the  man  with  whom  by  chance  he 
meets; 

When  he  is  angry , then  his  “heart  is  bad”; 

His  “stomach’s  little”  when  he’s  very  sad. 

He  has  “arrived”  when  he  has  seen  a place; 

For  Never  mind,  he  says,  “There  is  no  ease.” 

A “devil  killer”  is  a gun  that  shoots; 

He  “drinks  his  cigarette”  and  “rides  his 
boots.  ” 

When  moneyless,  he  “has  not  brought  his 
pice”; 

He  says  “too  nice”  when  he  means  very  nice; 

“Talk  words”  is  just  his  way  to  entertain; 

A “fire  carriage”  designates  a train. 


CHAPTER  X 


FRUITS  OF  THE  GROUND 

AS  WHEN  a Burman  thinks  dinner  he  thinks 
rice,  so  when  he  thinks  farming  he  thinks 
the  same  article — that  substantial  grain- 
food  of  three-fourths  of  the  world’s  people. 
And  because  to  the  other  fourth  rice  suggests 
only  occasional  soup-stock,  breakfast  food,  and 
raisin  pudding,  that  other  fourth  has  something 
economical  and  appetizing  to  learn  from  the 
rice-eaters. 

The  crop  is  planted  everywhere  in  the  bottom- 
land mud  puddles  and  on  the  upland  hillside 
terraces;  and  there  is  a dry  land  variety  also. 
The  rich,  wavy  green  of  the  limitless  stretches 
of  the  paddy-fields  of  Lower  Burma  affords  a 
charming  background  for  many  a lovely  view. 

The  cultivation  of  rice  is  primitive  and  simple. 
The  seed  is  sown  thickly  in  small  beds  first. 
The  fields  are  divided  by  low  earth  ridges 
into  irregular  patches  at  slightly  differing  levels, 
the  better  to  control  the  water  supply.  These 
patches  are  flooded  with  water,  and  stirred 


70 


Fruits  of  the  Ground  iyi 

with  a crude  plow  to  a soupy  consistency. 
When  the  plants  are  large  enough  they  are  set 
out  by  hand  in  the  standing  water, — a tedious 
task,  when  one  considers  that  they  are  set  as 
close  together  as  wheat  is  usually  drilled.  While 
the  crop  grows,  the  care  of  it  is  a matter  of 
keeping  the  water  at  a proper  level.  It  is  reaped 
with  a sickle.  A mowing  machine  would  mire 
in  the  soft  ground.  The  threshing  is  done  by 
flailing  or  trampling,  and  the  paddy  thus  pro- 
duced looks  much  like  oats  as  fed  to  horses. 
The  husk  is  commonly  removed  by  pounding 
the  grain  on  a stone  with  a large,  hammer- 
like affair  worked  by  the  weight  of  the  body. 

Long  before  some  ingenious  American  pro- 
duced “puffed  rice,”  by  “blowing  it  from  guns,” 
the  hill-tribes  of  Burma  had  been  puffing  rice 
for  centuries — without  the  use  of  “guns,”  which 
is  more  wonderful  still.  On  market  day  in  the 
hill-country  a little  Burmese  woman  will  sit 
down  beside  a pot  of  boiling  oil,  take  a handful 
of  cooked  rice  with  which  a little  sticky  liquid 
has  been  mixed,  mould  it  into  patties,  take 
it  between  two  sticks,  and  souse  it  up  and  down 
in  the  hot  oil.  In  less  than  a minute  it  is  puffed 
rice,  “blown  to  eight  times  its  normal  size”; 
and  with  a little  salt  added  it  makes  a tasty, 
crisp  biscuit  to  eat  out  of  hand. 


172 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


But  the  Burinan  regales  himself  with  some- 
thing else  in  the  line  of  natural  foods  besides 
rice.  There  are  a few  other  grains  raised,  corn 
principally,  but  legumes  and  vegetables  abound 


Threshing  Rice  by  the  Tramping  of  Water  Buffaloes 


Fruits  of  the  Ground 


173 


in  their  season.  Peanuts  are  plentiful  and 
cheap,  though  of  an  inferior  grade.  Tomatoes 
grow  small.  Potatoes  can  be  grown  well  only 
in  the  higher  lands.  The  earth  is  hoed  into 
hills,  and  some  wood  or  leaves  is  burned  in 
each  hill  before  planting.  This  is  to  kill  the 
grubs  and  insects;  and  it  is  a sample  of  the 
terrific  fight  the  cultivators  have  to  prevent 
animal  and  insect  life  from  destroying  the 
crops.  With  all  their  work  the  tubers  produced 
remind  one  too  much  of  marbles  in  size  and 
shape. 

The  vegetables  peculiar  to  the  tropics  thrive: 
yams,  artichoke,  okra,  brinjal  (like  egg-plant), 
and  many  other  unnamed-in-English  garden 
products  that  go  well  in  a boiled  dinner.  Burma 
needs  a great  genius  of  cookery  to  discover 
and  invent  preparations. of  native  vegetables  to 
suit  the  taste  of  the  foreigner. 

Fruits  are  abundant, — yellow,  red,  and  green 
bananas;  pineapples,  cocoanuts,  oranges,  limes, 
custard  apples,  guavas,  papayas  (pronounced 
pah-pah-yas),  jack  fruits,  mango-steens,  dorians, 
and  so  on  deliciously. 

On  our  first  long  walking  trip  in  the  Shan 
Hills  one  hot  season,  we  came  suddenly  upon 
some  bushes  that  hung  over  the  road  and  were 
weighted  down  with  what  looked  at  a distance 


174 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


like  little  yellow  flowers.  What  was  our  sur- 
prise on  reaching  them  to  see  yellow  rasp- 
berries in  such  super-abundance  that  after  we 
had  eaten  all  we  could,  and  had  filled  what  we 
had  to  carry  them  in,  we  passed  on  with  the 
regret  that  we  had  done  them  an  injustice. 
Farther  up,  we  found  larger  and  more  luscious 
black  ones  to  heighten  our  delight.  We  hadn’t 
seen  a raspberry  for  years. 

There  are  five  of  the  fruits  in  the  list  just 
given  that  are  very'  common  and  well  tasted  in 
the  tropics,  but  which  scarcely  ever  find  their 
way  into  colder  climes,  obviously  because  they 
will  not  grow  there,  will  not  keep  long  enough  to 
be  shipped  in  a ripe  condition,  and  may  not  be 
shipped  green  as  bananas  are.  At  the  risk 
of  failing  utterly,  I shall  endeavor  to  picture  to 
the  reader’s  mind  some  conception  of  these 
five  delectable  fruit  treasures  of  the  tropics. 
I am  positively  assured  that  I shall  offend 
some  who  already  know  the  fruits,  since  my 
descriptions,  in  their  opinions,  will  be  wrong 
or  entirely  inadequate;  for  who  can  describe  a 
flavor?  But  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  curiosity 
I shall  try.  Those  who  know  may  skip  this. 
And  those  who  don’t  know  may  practise  a 
good  drill  in  imagination. 

The  dorian — to  begin  with  the  one  which 


Fruits  of  the  Ground 


175 


the  novice  would  rather  not  have  included  at 
all — is  a fruit  with  an  atmosphere,  so  much  so 
that  it  preempts  the  air-space  for  fifty  feet 
around  it  with  an  odor  that  disgraces  description. 
A dorian  can’t  be  hidden — except  in  a vacuum! 
The  first  sniff  of  it  a respectable  nose  gets 
is  suggestive  of  something  in  the  advanced 
stages  of  decay  (to  put  it  mildly) ; and  yet  it  is 
a perfectly  good  fruit  that  has  a right  to  atten- 
tion, and  odoriferously  demands  the  recognition 
of  that  right  by  everyone  with  a sense  of  smell. 
It  grows  on  a tree,  and  is  about  the  shape  of  a 
lemon  and  the  size  of  a large  coconut.  The 
color  is  green-turning-yellow,  and  there  are  small 
spines  on  its  rind.  Most  of  its  bulk  is  made  up 
of  pith;  but  embedded  in  this  are  a few  large, 
hard,  brown  seeds;  and  surrounding  these  seeds 
there  is  a layer  about  a quarter  of  an  inch 
thick  of  soft,  creamy  substance  which  is  the 
hidden  treasure  of  the  dorian  lover.  Of  course 
the  real  proving  is  in  the  tasting,  however  sure 
one  may  be  that  it  is  in  the  smelling;  and  the 
taster  usually  holds  his  nose  in  the  first  trial 
in  order  to  brave  it  with  any  degree  of  olfactory 
comfort.  And  it  tastes — like  cooked,  rotten 
onions;  that  is,  if  we  subtract  the  peculiar 
dorian  flavor  that  goes  with  it,  for  which  there 
is  no  simile  adequate.  And — that  is,  again — 


iy6  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

it  tastes  like  this  at  first.  But  right  here  is  the 
peculiar  part  of  it.  While  the  smell  is  dis- 
gusting and  the  taste  is  almost  as  bad,  yet 


Coconuts  at  their  Prime 


Fruits  of  the  Ground 


177 


there  is  something  about  it  that  bids  you  come 
again.  And  if  you  are  sensible  you  will  come 
again.  The  first  time  you  loathe  it,  the  second 
time  you  tolerate  it,  the  third  time  you  want  it, 
and  the  fourth  time  you  can’t  get  long  without 
it.  Sounds  like  a stimulant  or  a narcotic, 
doesn’t  it?  Yet  it  is  neither,  and  not  in  any 
way  harmful.  It  is  amusing  to  see  the  old  palate 
at  it  going  through  the  smack-lip  operation,  and 
at  the  same  time  a new  arrival  almost  nauseated 
over  the  same  innocent-looking  fruit.  It  is  easy 
to  start  an  argument  at  any  time  in  any  company 
over  the  taste  of  dorian. 

Dorian’s  a fruit  in  such  a loathing  held, 

To  be  detested  needs  but  to  be  smelled ; 

But,  eaten  oft,  it  ceases  to  annoy; 

At  first  we  gag,  submit,  and  then  enjoy. 

When  guavas  are  mentioned,  think  of  pears; 
for  perhaps  the  guava  comes  nearer  being  like 
a pear  than  like  any  other  temperate  zone  fruit. 
More  rounded  than  a pear  in  shape,  it  has  a 
somewhat  similar  skin,  and  also  resembles  it  in 
size  and  in  the  nature  of  its  seeds.  The  edible 
part  has  the  woody,  grainy  texture  of  a poor 
pear,  is  rather  juiceless  and  slightly  sweet,  but 
not  tart. 

When  we  first  disembarked  at  Bombay  we 


1 7 8 In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

were  mistreated  to  a guava  to  eat  as  part  of 
our  lunch.  I would  just  as  readily  have  relished 
a raw  potato.  I remember  that  on  first  tasting 
it  I thought  that  perhaps  at  one  time  in  the 
remote  past  it  had  been  a fairly  desirable  fruit; 
but  that  at  least  my  specimen  had  very  much 
deteriorated,  as  any  fruit  will  do  by  poor  culti- 
vation; and  that  a mild  dose  of  stomach  bitters 
had  been  injected  into  it.  But  such  is  a guava 
— raw.  However,  it  redeems  itself.  The  proof 
is  in  the  preparation  of  it.  Slice  it,  and  let  it 
stand  in  sugar  and  water  for  a few  hours,  and 
you  have  something  equal  to  sliced  raw  peaches. 
Cook  it,  and  it  makes  a sauce  to  suit  the  taste 
of  the  most  fastidious. 

We  do  not  know  why  a custard-apple  should 
be  called  an  apple,  unless  because  it  isn’t  at  all 
like  one.  Or  maybe  it  is  for  the  same  reason  that 
a pineapple  is  called  an  apple,  whatever  reason 
that  is.  And  right  here  we  have  the  likeness.  It 
develops  on  the  same  lines  as  a pineapple.  In 
size  and  shape  like  a short,  fat  pine  cone,  it 
grows  from  a central  core  at  its  base.  Instead 
of  the  spines  and  tough  rind  of  the  pineapple 
it  has  roughened,  soft,  green  lobes  on  its  surface. 

The  whole  inside  is  edible;  and  is  eaten  by 
breaking  the  fruit  open,  and  supping  it  out 
with  a spoon.  Custard  is  the  word  for  it; 


Fruits  of  the  Ground  179 

for  it  has  that  appearance  and  consistency, 
with  the  seeds  about  the  soft  cone  resembling 
raisins,  except  that  they  are  hard.  The  flavor 


Climbing  the  Toddy  Palm  to  Get  the  Juice  from  which  is  Made 
the’Favorite  Burmese  Beverage 


180  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

is  not  pronounced;  it  is  sweetish,  but  not  tart. 
Perhaps  warmed  vanilla  ice  cream  would  de- 
scribe it. 

Of  papayas  we  will  begin  by  stating  that  they 
are  like  muskmelons — and  then  tell  how  they 
are  not  like  them.  The  papaya  grows  on  a 
tree,  and  not  on  a vine — a tree  that,  like  the 
famous  mustard  plant  of  the  parable,  becomes 
great  from  a small  seed  in  a short  time.  During 
the  second  season  from  the  planting  of  the  seed, 
under  favorable  conditions  (one  of  which  is 
plenty  of  water),  it  reaches  a height  of  ten 
feet,  with  a trunk  diameter  of  three  inches,  and 
at  this  age  will  mature  fruit.  The  wood  is  very 
soft,  and  the  plant  does  not  do  well  after  the 
first  few  seasons.  It  belongs  to  the  palm  family, 
and  has  a tuft  of  long  leaf-fronds  at  the  top, 
with  the  fruit  clustering  about  the  stem  just 
beneath  these  leaves. 

The  papaya  has  the  form  of  a lemon  or  a 
pear,  varies  in  size  from  that  of  a large  potato 
to  that  of  a hubbard  squash,  and  has  a smooth, 
green  rind  that  turns  slightly  yellow  when  ripe. 
On  the  inside  the  meat  is  arranged  just  like  that 
of  a muskmelon,  and  is  the  same  color  and 
degree  of  firmness.  There  is  the  same  hollow 
in  the  center,  but  the  seeds  are  altogether 
different- — half  the  size  of  a pea,  black,  and  bitter 
to  the  taste. 


Fruits  of  the  Ground  181 

The  flavor  of  this  refreshing  fruit  is  very 
like  that  of  the  cantaloupe,  with  a little  bitter 
added.  This  last  seems  to  be  against  the  like- 
ableness of  the  fruit  at  first,  but  one  grows  not 
to  notice  it.  In  fact,  it  has  certain  curative 
properties  for  some  maladies,  and  medicines  are 
compounded  from  it.  Perhaps  there  is  no  more 
healthful  food-fruit  known  in  the  tropics  than 
papayas.  The  trees  bear  nearly  the  whole 
year  round,  and  the  fruit  is  quite  cheap  in  price. 
It  takes  its  place  with  the  cool  shower  and  the 
breathing  exercise  as  a whetting  stimulant  to 
begin  the  day. 

The  queen  of  the  tropical  fruits  is  the  mango. 
There  are  many  varieties — as  many  as  of  apples ; 
but  whether  long  and  slim,  or  short  and  fat; 
green  or  red  or  yellow-with-a-pink-cheek,  fibrous 
or  pulpy,  the  mango  takes  the  prize.  The  tree 
is  large  and  symmetrical,  and  is  among  the  best 
for  shade  and  ornament.  As  a denizen  of  the 
front  lawn  it  calls  for  no  apologies. 

In  size  like  an  average  potato,  the  shape 
of  the  fruit  is  like  a navy  bean  slightly  side- 
flattened.  There  is  just  one  seed,  embedded  in 
the  center,  and  formed  like  an  elongated  lima 
bean.  But  the  most  attractive  part  is  between 
the  seed  and  the  skin.  Stringy  with  sweet- 
potato  stringiness,  tart  with  lemon  sour,  sweet- 


l8z 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


ened  to  perfection,  with  the  juiciness  of  the 
Bartlett  pear  out-juieified,  it  tastes  like — a man- 
go ! Incomparable ! 

It  is  eaten  by  cutting  off  slices,  or  by  cutting 
it  in  two,  and  resorting  to  the  use  of  a spoon. 
Finger  bowls  come  handy.  But,  not  to  mention 
table-manners,  there  is  a more  satisfactory  way : 
Put  a dozen  mangoes  into  a large  basin,  secure  a 
sharp  knife,  roll  up  your  sleeves,  and  go  at  it — 
stopping  only  when  the  juice  drips  off  your 
elbows.  You  will  begin  with  a smile,  end  with  a 
laugh,  and  conclude  that  if  there  is  any  fruit 
better  than  mangoes  it  is  more  mangoes. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  BEASTS  THAT  PERISH 

Elephants 

THE  impression  prevails  in  many  countries 
that  the  chief  use  of  the  elephant  is  to 
look  big,  to  carry  around  the  reputation 
of  being  the  bulkiest  of  land  animals.  But 
it  would  indeed  be  a pity  if  such  mountains  of 
bone  and  muscle  could  not  be  harnessed  at 
least  to  lean  against  the  world’s  work  and  help 
to  make  it  move.  To  hundreds  of  the  tame 
elephants  in  Burma,  life  is  more  than  a circus 
or  a zoo.  Their  deliberate  movements  and 
loosely  hung  skin  often  deceive  one  into  think- 
ing that  they  are  awkward  and  clumsy;  but 
rather,  they  are  capable  of  moving  quickly,  and 
of  performing  work  which  requires  skill,  in- 
telligence, and  delicacy.  In  this  “land  of  the 
white  elephant”  there  are  still  thousands  of 
these  beasts  (all  black),  the  wild  ones  roaming 
in  herds  in  the  jungles,  browsing  upon  the  foli- 
age, and  sporting  at  the  favorite  baths  in  the 
rivers.  Those  in  captivity  are  used  principally 
by  the  large  lumber  companies,  gathering  and 


Tame  Elephants  are  very  Skillful  at  Piling  Timbers,  Displaying  almost  Human  Intelligence  in 

Placing  Them  in  Perfect  Order 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


185 

piling  teakwood  logs  in  the  forests.  The  Karen 
people  own  many  of  them,  and  are  expert 
in  their  handling.  Their  value  ranges  from 
two  thousand  to  four  thousand  dollars  each. 

A touching  story  is  told  of  one  of  these  huge 
log  rollers  which  recently  died  in  Rangoon. 
His  keeper  had  been  with  him  for  many  years; 
and  in  his  old  age,  though  blind,  the  affectionate 
beast  was  very  devoted  to  the  man.  As  his 
last  moments  approached,  the  great  fellow  lay 
upon  the  ground  and  swung  his  trunk  around 
as  if  reaching  for  something.  The  keeper  knew 
what  he  wanted  and  came  nearer.  The  trunk 
gently  wrapped  him  round  and  drew  him 
closer  in  loving  embrace,  while  tears  gushed  from 
the  eyes  of  both  man  and  beast.  In  this  atti- 
tude the  huge  body  breathed  its  last.  Those 
who  saw  it  say  this  was  a most  affecting  scene. 

It  is  often  necessary  in  lumbering  operations 
to  move  these  docile  animals  long  distances  to 
other  parts  of  the  country.  They  walk  when 
possible,  of  course,  but  bodies  of  water  present 
obstacles  not  easily  overcome.  Sometimes  they 
are  transferred  from  the  wharf  to  the  deck 
of  the  ship  by  means  of  a derrick.  Elephants 
can  swim  the  rivers  even  though  they  do  not 
look  as  if  they  could,  but  they  are  likely  to  be 
very  independent  and  obstinate.  At  one  time 


1 86  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

we  saw  a novel  way  of  getting  a herd  across 
the  Salween  River. 

We  had  been  doing  some  prospecting  in  the 


If  he  but  Lean  Against  the  Collar  That  Log  Will  Come 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


187 

Karen  country,  and  had  returned  the  previous 
evening  to  the  head  of  stream  navigation  at 
Shwegun.  The  Salween  is  one  of  the  longest 
rivers  in  the  world,  but  it  can  not* be  navigated 
far  because  of  numerous  falls  in  its  lower  course. 
At  Shwegun  the  stream  was  about  half  a mile 
wide  at  low  water,  the  time  we  were  there. 
The  sixty  miles  to  the  sea  is  traveled  in  a day 
by  little  two-deck  steam  launches  about  seventy- 
five  feet  in  length.  We  were  on  board  all  night, 
due  to  start  downstream  at  9 A.  M.  the  next 
day.  But  at  daylight  the  boat  started  up- 
stream. We  were  surprised,  but  soon  saw  the 
reason.  In  a few  minutes  we  arrived  at  a place 
on  the  river  where  a high  clay  bank  was  topped 
by  forest  trees ; and  among  them  stood  a herd  of 
twenty-one  elephants,  many  of  them  towering 
giants  with  long  tusks.  A crowd  of  Burmese 
and  Karens  stood  on  the  bank — early  comers 
to  see  the  show. 

At  the  water’s  edge  stood  the  first  victim — 
a huge  fellow  whose  small  eyes  blinked  dubiously 
at  the  obvious  prospect  of  a forced  bath.  He 
was  fastened  by  the  forefeet  to  two  firmly  set 
posts.  A heavy  rope  was  passed  from  the 
chain  holding  his  feet  together  to  the  stern 
of  the  steamboat.  A tin  float,  shaped  like  an 
ordinary  harbor  buoy*  but  only  about  three 


i88 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


feet  in  diameter,  was  fastened  on  his  back  to 
help  keep  him  on  the  surface.  His  keeper  took 
the  usual  seat  back  of  his  ears.  The  signal  was 
given,  and  the  boat  started  across  the  river, 
soon  pulling  the  rope  taut.  At  this  critical 
moment  the  fastenings  were  loosed  from  the 
posts,  the  driver  gave  a last  prod  before  making 
a wild  leap  for  the  bank,  and  Mr.  Elephant  was 
drawn  down  the  slippery  incline  into  the  water. 
He  trumpeted  loudly  with  fear,  and  fought 
desperately  to  hold  back  and  regain  the  bank; 
but  steam  power  triumphed,  and  he  was  towed 
with  ever  increasing  swiftness  into  deep  water. 
When  beyond  his  depth,  he  disappeared  en- 
tirely, only  the  float  telling  his  whereabouts; 
and  even  it  was  dragged  under  at  times. 
Then  suddenly  his  trunk  appeared  with  a snort, 
and,  waving  about  wildly,  quickly  took  on  a 
snakelike  curve  and  seemed  to  point  an  accus- 
ing finger  at  us  as  we  stood  at  the  stern  of  the 
steamer.  Then  the  huge  bod}^  rose  and  thrashed 
the  water  into  foam  as  it  rolled  from  side  to 
side  and  over,  struggling  to  get  free.  Again 
it  disappeared  as  if  to  seek  the  river  bed  for  a 
foothold,  only  to  reappear  and  rest  content  to  be 
dragged  rapidly  along  near  the  surface,  with  the 
water  pouring  over  the  gigantic  head  as  it 
pours  over  a smooth  rock  in  a rapid  river. 


The  Beasts  that  Perish  i8q 

Soon  the  opposite  bank  was  reached,  which  was 
sandy  and  shallow  far  out.  As  the  launch  could 
not  approach  very  near,  the  elephant  was  left 
for  a minute  floundering  in  about  fifteen  feet 
of  water.  Meanwhile  a Burmese  racing  boat 
full  of  men  had  paddled  at  top  speed  with  the 
driver  from  the  other  bank.  Now  they  ap- 
proached the  big  fellow  cautiously,  and  at  a 
favorable  moment  the  driver  adroitly  jumped 
from  the  prow  of  the  canoe  onto  the  elephant’s 
head.  Hastily  setting  free  the  float,  he  urged 
the  beast  toward  the  bank  with  peculiar  twiteh- 
ings  of  his  knees  back  of  the  big  ears;  while 
this  was  being  done,  the  rope  was  carried  to 
the  bank,  and  a number  of  men  exerted  their 
puny  strength  to  tow  him  in.  And  he  seemed 
to  have  no  power  nor  inclination  to  resist. 

The  whole  herd  of  twenty-one  was  taken  over 
in  the  same  manner.  This  way  of  doing  it  may 
seem  cruel,  and  some  men  engaged  in  the 
business  think  it  is.  But  the  animals  looked 
none  the  worse  for  it,  and  some  seemed  actually 
to  enjoy  it.  We  could  understand  how  they 
might  if  their  forefeet  had  been  free. 

One  of  them,  which  was  so  unfortunate  as  not 
to  have  a float  at  his  back,  went  entirely  under 
as  soon  as  he  reached  deep  water,  and  stayed 
there  till  the  other  side  was  nearly  gained. 


iQO  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

We  could  tell  by  the  length  and  angle  of  the  rope 
that  he  must  have  been  about  twenty-five  feet 
down.  As  time  passed,  and  he  did  not  come  up 
for  air,  and  seemed  to  hang  as  a dead  weight, 
the  owners  became  alarmed,  and  there  was 


This  is  the  Way  Elephants  are  Loaded  into  Ships 


much  shouting  and  ado;  but  beyond  an  extra 
powerful  spout  when  his  trunk  appeared,  he 
acted  the  same  as  did  the  others. 

Another  gigantic  tusker  was  determined  after 
the  first  outrage  not  to  submit  tamely  to  such 
indignities.  When  his  driver  gained  his  back 
and  tried  to  prod  and  urge  him  to  land,  he 


The  Beasts  that  Perish  igi 

wouldn’t  go.  Instead,  he  headed  for  the  middle 
of  the  river.  All  the  shouting  and  pulling  by 
the  men  on  the  shore  hadn’t  the  least  effect. 
He  reached  the  current  and  swam  rapidly  down- 
stream. The  driver  was  game  and  held  his  seat, 
but  he  might  as  well  have  been  a fly.  The 
launch  gave  chase,  when  there  was  no  other 
way,  and  after  an  exciting  few  minutes  the 
runaway  was  rounded  up  half  a mile  down. 
He  was  so  tired  when  he  finally  landed  that  he 
could  scarcely  walk. 

Our  boat  was  so  late  in  getting  down  the  river 
that  we  missed  the  train  for  Rangoon,  but 
the  sight  was  worth  the  sacrifice. 

Crows 

Ask  any  traveler  who  has  been  in  India  or 
Burma  what  sound  is  the  most  common  and 
universal,  and  he  will  tell  you  the  caw  of  a 
crow.  With  all  their  millions  of  people,  these 
lands  actually  seem  to  have  more  crows  than 
human  beings.  They  flock  like  sparrows  in 
both  town  and  country,  and  flap  themselves  into 
every  view. 

The  crows  of  the  East  are  in  size  about  half- 
way between  the  large  crow  of  America  and  the 
blackbird.  They  are  prolific  and  long-lived; 
and,  being  ever  alert  and  quick  of  movement, 


IQ2  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

they  are  not  easily  destroyed.  It  is  said  that  a 
few  years  ago  they  became  so  numerous  in  some 
places  as  to  be  an  extreme  nuisance;  so  the 
government  offered  a small  bounty  for  their 
heads.  Then  the  natives  began  raising  them  in 
captivity  in  such  large  numbers  that  it  was  a 
paying  industry;  so  this  method  of  extermina- 
tion had  to  be  abandoned. 

But  the  crows  are  one  of  the  greatest  blessings 
of  the  country.  They  are  its  chief  scavengers, 
and  are  worth  more  than  a thousand  doctors 
and  sanitary  inspectors.  There  is  nothing  that 
forms  a breeding  place  for  germs  that  crows  will 
scorn  as  food.  In  the  land  of  filth  producers 
the  crows  are  filth  destroyers.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  should  these  blackwings  be  cut  off, 
epidemics  would  gather  a much  larger  toll  of 
human  life  than  they  do  at  present.  It  is 
impossible  to  estimate  their  true  value  as 
scavengers.  Because  of  this,  and  also  for  reli- 
gious reasons,  attempts  are  seldom  made  to 
kill  them. 

In  the  outlying  districts  they  may  be  seen 
by  the  hundreds,  tumbling  over  one  another  in 
the  furrows  as  they  follow  the  plow  to  eat 
the  exposed  grubs.  They  ride  on  the  backs 
of  the  patient  and  slow-moving  bullocks  and 
buffaloes,  deftly  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  the 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


193 


swishing  tails,  and  snapping  up  the  insects  that 
swarm  about  the  beasts.  They  form  a mutual 
benefit  society  with  a cow;  and  as  bossy  lies 
quietly  in  the  shade,  chewing  her  cud,  they 
perch  on  her  nose  or  ears  and  pick  at  the  insects 
and  vermin,  only  having  to  look  sharp  when  the 
bovine  resents  a too-familiar  intrusion  on  her 
nasal  or  auditory  property  rights. 

As  soon  as  a train  stops  at  a station,  the 
crows  alight  with  impunity  on  the  cars,  and 
make  common  cause  with  their  fellow  scaven- 
gers, the  pariah  dogs,  in  seeing  which  can  be 
first  to  grab  the  discarded  food  thrown  from 
the  windows.  Many  a battle  royal  is  fought 
between  these  two  for  the  prize.  The  dogs 
have  the  strength  but  the  crows  have  the  wings 
and  the  wits.  When  the  pariah  gets  there 
first,  often  the  crows  will  unite  in  a body  to 
attack  him.  And  what  strategy!  Some  ap- 
proach from  behind  and  persistently  nag  till  he 
makes  a dash  to  drive  them  off.  Then,  like  a 
flash,  those  in  front  pounce  on  the  morsel  and 
are  away  with  it. 

For  all  the  good  they  do,  it  is  difficult  to 
have  patience  with  them  about  the  house.  Ever 
cawing  and  ever  watchful,  they  perch  at  the 
edge  of  the  safety  zone  about  the  back  veranda. 
They  are  thieves  of  the  bold  bandit  variety.  A 
7 


194- 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


caw,  a swoop,  a grab,  and  a swift  retreat  are  the 
order  and  method  of  their  predatory  raids. 
Let  the  housewife  or  the  servant  relax  vigilance, 
and  through  the  window  comes  Mr.  Crow,  and 
with  a low  swish  of  wings  is  onto  the  dining 
table.  There  is  a rattle  and  a bang  as  a dish 
falls,  and  a rush  to  the  rescue  reveals  broken 
glass,  an  article  of  food . gone,  or  the  butter 
suddenly  showing  its  age  by  crow’s-feet  lines. 

Any  small  article  that  shines  looks  edible 
to  the  crow.  So  it  often  happens  that  valuable 
pieces  of  jewelry,  scissors,  and  thimbles  dis- 
appear from  the  table;  and  the  servant  gets  the 
blame.  There  is  no  time  for  the  robbers  to 
investigate  closely  before  the  raid,  and  so, 
since  the  trinket  is  indigestible,  it  is  treated 
as  the  proverbial  pearls  are  treated  by  the 
proverbial  swine,  and  the  owner  never  sees  it 
again.  One  invalid  lady,  who  was  confined  to 
her  bed,  was  horrified  at  being  compelled  to  lie 
still  while  a crow  deliberately  carried  off  her 
false  teeth  from  the  table  in  the  room. 

One  day  we  were  riding  in  a cart  that  toiled 
slowly  through  the  deep  sands  of  the  Irrawaddy 
River  bottom,  when  we  came  across  a number 
of  huge  vultures  which  were  drying  their  feathers 
in  the  hot  sun  after  a dip  in  the  river.  They 
stood  on  the  sands  and  spread  their  wings 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


195 


wide,  fully  ten  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  A number 
of  crows  hovered  about  to  catch  the  insects  that 
swarm  around  these  ugly  carrion  eaters.  For 
greater  convenience,  the  crows  stood  on  the 


Mealtime  for  the  Vultures 


outstretched  wings  of  the  vultures.  The  added 
weight  was  disconcerting,  to  say  the  least, 
and  the  big  birds  began  to  take  the  wild  and 
awkward  leaps  that  are  characteristic  of  these 
clumsy  creatures  when  on  the  earth.  To  see 
the  crows  bobbing  back  and  forth  trying  to 
keep  their  balance  on  the  wings,  and  the  strenu- 
ous but  vain  efforts  of  the  vultures  to  dislodge 
them,  was  indeed  mirth-provoking;  and  we 


iq6  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

greatly  enjoyed  viewing  the  maneuvers  when 
scavenger  plagues  scavenger. 

Like  all  common  and  unavoidable  annoy- 
ances, the  crow  soon  ceases  to  attract  notice, 
and  we  almost  forget  its  presence.  But  should 
I go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  never  return 
to  Burma,  the  raucous  eaw  of  a crow  would 
ever  remind  me  of  Burma’s  blessing  and  bother 
of  the  genus  Corvus. 


Dogs 

To  see  the  dogs  of  the  East  is  to  more  easily 
understand  the  force  of  the  expression,  “With- 
out are  dogs,”  which  occurs  in  the  Biblical 
description  of  the  new  earth.  Whether  this 
prophecy  is  to  be  taken  literally  or  figuratively, 
such  dogs,  or  any  being  that  such  dogs  would 
symbolize,  would  make  heaven  very  unheavenly. 
To  some  minds  the  word  suggests  a lovable 
pet  and  companion;  to  others  a servant  and  a 
protector;  but  in  the  East  a dog  stands  for  all 
that  is  obnoxious  in  animal  life,  a scavenger 
of  scavengers. 

Then  is  he  worth  mentioning?  No;  except 
that,  whether  worthy  or  not,  he  forces  himself 
on  the  attention  of  human  beings  in  spite  of 
every  effort  to  scorn  his  existence.  To  deal 
with  Burma  is  to  deal  with  dogs.  And,  besides, 


The  Beasts  that  Perish  iQy 

who  will  say  that  a scavenger  is  beneath  notice? 

Every  village  has  its  quota  of  dogs;  and  the 
quota  seems  to  be  at  the  ratio  of  two  dogs  to 
each  person.  The  attitude  of  the  people  fosters 
an  increasing  number  of  them.  For  religious 
reasons  the  owners  will  not  kill  them.  If  a 
dog  is  maimed  or  incurably  sick  it  drags  itself 
around  till  death.  Disease  attacks  them,  and 
scores  of  mangy,  hairless,  skin-and-bone  canines 
will  prowl  and  howl  about  a town  and  hunt 
for  carrion  to  eke  out  their  miserable  lives. 
They  fight  fiercely,  and  run  in  packs  at  night, 
waking  the  nervous  with  their  yelps.  It  is  a 
custom  of  foreigners  to  carry  a cane  to  keep 
them  at  a distance.  But  very  rarely  do  they 
molest  people,  except  when  they  go  mad.  It  is 
best  always  to  steer  clear  of  them,  especially 
in  hot  weather.  One  of  our  best  and  brightest 
Christian  school  boys  was  bitten  by  a mad 
dog  while  on  his  way  to  school  one  day,  and 
though  he  took  the  cure  provided  by  the  govern- 
ment, he  died  of  hydrophobia  a few  months  later. 
But  as  far  as  we  observed,  there  are  no  more 
dogs  go  mad  in  Burma,  in  proportion  to  their 
numbers,  than  in  America,  or  in  any  other 
much  more  dogless  country. 

But,  east  as  west,  “Every  dog  has  his  day”; 
and  with  many  of  them  in  India  and  Burma 


198  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

that  day  is  the  annual  one  when  a coolie  from 
the  “conservancy  department”  of  the  local 
government  goes  about  and  throws  a piece  of 
poisoned  meat  to  every  cadaverous  canine  that 
he  meets.  The  next  day  there  is  a big  dog 
funeral. 


Pests  and  Pets 

When  we  started  for  the  mission  field,  our 
friends  presented  us  with  a small,  square  organ 
for  use  in  our  work.  The  gift  was  appreciated; 
and  because  we  were  ignorant  we  took  it  along. 
To  begin  with,  it  came  to  grief  at  the  landing. 
Four  coolies  at  Bombay  were  carrying  it  on 
their  heads,  one  under  each  corner,  and  when 
they  were  ready  to  set  it  down  they  calmly 
stepped  out  from  under  it,  all  together,  and  let 
it  drop.  It  was  broken  badly,  but  the  music- 
making parts  were  intact,  and  it  was  soon  fixed. 
However,  it  was  doomed  to  a worse  fate.  It 
became  an  ideal  nesting  place  for  household 
pests.  Lizards  and  mice  occupied  the  lower 
stories,  and  huge  roaches  found  homey  living 
stalls  just  over  the  reeds.  In  vain  did  we 
take  it  apart  and  clean  out  the  broods.  There 
was  no  way  to  make  it  vermin-tight;  and 
since,  to  add  to  our  burden,  the  glued  parts 
came  loose  in  the  wet  season,  it  had  to  be  sold 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


199 


for  little  or  nothing.  Incidentally  we  learned 
that  it  pays  to  buy  musical  instruments  and 
furniture  made  to  stand  the  tropics;  and  par- 
ticularly we  were  made  aware  that  insect  and 
animal  life  in  Burma  fairly  swarms. 

The  reader  may  question  the  housekeeping 
ability  of  anyone  who  would  allow  roaches, 
mice,  and  lizards  in  the  house  at  all.  But 
may  we  beg  a hearing  of  our  case?  Sentiment 
and  sanitation  fought  for  the  mastery  in  our 
minds  for  a long  time.  We  kept  the  organ  in 
the  interests  of  sentiment,  and  passed  it  on 
in  the  interests  of  sanitation.  And,  moreover, 
with  the  very  numbers  and  persistency  of  the 
vermin  and  the  very  openness  of  the  houses,  let 
it  be  said  that  it  is  not  a disgrace  to  find  these 
things  inside,  nor  is  it  much  of  a disgrace  to 
continue  to  find  them ; but  it  is  a disgrace  to  be 
content  to  live  with  them  on  equal  terms  and 
to  give  up  the  fight.  It  is  a fight,  but  not  so 
bad  as  it  sounds.  It  is  simply  a matter  of  taking 
proper  precautions — taking  them,  and  making 
them  habits.  From  some  insects  and  animals 
one  can’t  rid  himself  entirely,  though  they  can 
be  kept  at  a distance.  And  in  the  case  of 
others  it  pays  to  transform  pests  into  pets. 

Take  the  lizards,  for  instance.  Reptiles  of 
any  sort  make  my  flesh  creep.  Snakes  I hate 


200  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

as  I do  the  devil,  and  especially  after  I one 
day  rescued  a half -swallowed  toad  from  one 
of  the  slimy  rascals.  And  lizards  are  classed  with 
snakes.  But  there  are  lizards  and  lizards.  In 
Burma  most  of  them  get  short  shift,  even  with 
the  natives,  who  scruple  at  taking  life.  One 
variety  is  called  the  praying  lizard,  because 
it  is  nearly  always  moving  its  head  up  and 
down  as  if  bowing  to  someone.  There  is  a 
tradition  among  the  Mohammedans  that  when 
one  of  the  heroes  of  their  early  history  was 
fleeing  from  his  enemies  and  had  hid  in  a well, 
one  of  these  lizards  was  found  near-by  pointing 
out  the  hiding  place  with  his  nodding  head. 
And  the  Buddhists  tell  a story  that  one  day 
when  the  Burmese  king  was  walking  in  his 
garden  he  saw  one  of  these  reptiles  bowing 
to  him,  as  he  thought.  He  was  so  well  pleased 
at  its  good  manners  that  he  had  all  the  praying 
lizards  caught  that  could  be  found  in  the  palace 
grounds  and  gold  bands  fastened  about  their 
necks.  But  these  metal  collars  kept  them  from 
moving  their  heads  as  before.  So  he  became 
angry  at  their  lack  of  thankfulness,  and  ordered 
them  all  killed.  Therefore  the  Mohammedans 
and  the  Buddhists  consider  it  a real  work  of 
merit  to  kill  these  harmless  creatures. 

Then  there  is  the  chameleon-like  lizard  that 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


201 


changes  its  color  to  suit  its  surroundings;  and 
the  tuk-too,  a medium-sized  fellow  who  in- 
habits the  roofs  and  eaves  of  houses  and  keeps 
out  of  sight — but  not  out  of  hearing.  “ Oft  in  the 
stilly  night”  he  will  suddenly  wake  the  sleepers 
with  his  raucous  “tuk-too,  tuk-too”  in  meas- 
ured beat,  and  after  several  repetitions  will 
close  the  performance  with  a gutteral  growl. 
Some  think  he  says  “Doctor,”  but  he  suggests 
the  undertaker. 

Best  of  all  this  tribe  are  the  little  five-inch 
lizards  that  come  out  on  the  walls  and  ceil- 
ings of  the  house  at  night  and  catch  insects 
over  the  light.  When,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
rains,  hundreds  of  “bugs”  of  every  description 
pester  the  student  at  his  evening  lamp,  he 
gladly  welcomes  these  little  reptiles  who  have  a 
happy  hankering  for  things  with  wings.  With 
pleasure  he  sees  the  sides  of  the  little  fellows 
get  fat  on  the  gorging.  They  are  clean,  always 
keep  out  of  the  way,  and  are  welcomed  by  the 
good  housekeeper  for  the  service  they  render. 
Occasionally  one  will  stub  his  toe  on  the  ceiling 
and  light  on  the  floor  with  a spat,  but  in  a jiffy 
he  is  up  the  wall  again. 

There  was  a tiny  individual  of  this  species 
who  used  to  make  nightly  visits  down  the 
wall  to  my  desk  and  catch  insects.  His  skin 


202  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

and  flesh  were  so  translucent  that  I could  almost 
see  through  him,  and  could  easily  make  out  the 
black  shade  of  the  dinner  in  his  stomach.  Down 
the  wall-matting  with  noiseless  rushes  and 
motionless  pauses  he  would  come,  creeping  up 
on  unwarj7  insects  like  a cat.  When  close 
enough  he  would  crouch  for  a moment,  and 
nothing  but  the  flash  of  his  beady  eyes  showed 
life;  then  his  head  would  shoot  forward  and 
his  tongue  dart  out  so  quickly  that  my  eye 
could  scarcely  catch  the  movement.  But  he 
never  missed.  The  insect  was  inside.  Then  he 
would  stand  and  lick  his  chops,  and  look  at  me 
with  great  satisfaction.  One  night  he  stalked  the 
wrong  quarry  and  got  a mouthful  of  bitter  bug. 
The  expression  on  his  elongated  countenance 
was  almost  human  as  he  slowly  spit  the  thing 
out,  just  like  a person  making  a wry  face  over 
a dose  of  quinine. 

On  the  least  movement  of  mine  he  would 
scurry  away  in  alarm,  although  he  would  run 
onto  my  prone  hand  for  his  prey.  There  is 
no  catching  these  little  reptiles.  One  day  an 
unfortunate  member  of  our  brood  had  his  tail 
crushed  off  by  the  closing  of  a table  drawer. 
The  severed  organ  dropped  to  the  floor  and 
wiggled  for  a long  time,  but  master  lizard 
managed  to  get  the  other  three-fourths  of  him- 


The  Beasts  that  Perish 


203 


self  away  in  good  shape.  He  appeared  as  usual 
in  the  evening  hunt  after  that,  and  seemed  to 
have  no  need  of  a hospital.  And  every  night 
he  had  a little  more  tail,  till  in  a few  weeks  his 
brand-new  caudle  appendage  was  fully  de- 
veloped. 

Likewise  also  there  are  the  ants.  They 
deserve  a long  story  by  themselves ; but  we  must 
give  them  attention  according  to  their  size. 
Little  ants,  big  ants,  red,  black,  and  white; 
fighting  ants,  biting  ants,  army  ants  galore. 
Houses  must  be  built  with  the  ants  in  mind. 
Walls  are  made  single  so  that  every  crevice 
can  be  reached.  There  are  no  built-in  closets 
and  cupboards.  All  furniture  stands  out  from 
the  wall,  and  is  set  on  legs,  so  that  there  is  a 
clear  view  all  around  it.  Any  piece  of  furniture 
which  contains  food,  such  as  a cupboard  or 
table,  has  its  feet  set  in  little  earthen  saucers, 
and  these  are  kept  full  of  water.  If  every 
possibility  of  their  getting  at  food  is  removed, 
the  ants  do  not  bother  much.  But  let  a little 
scout  find  no  water  in  one  of  the  saucers  some 
night,  and  the  next  morning  the  butter  will  be 
well  peppered  with  his  comrades,  and  perhaps 
the  whole  inside  of  a loaf  of  bread  be  eaten  out. 

Much  has  been  said  about  white  ants;  which 
by  the  way  are  not  ants  at  all,  but  properly 


204  /»  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

bear  the  name  termites.  They  have  a light- 
colored  body  and  resemble  ants.  They  build 
huge  nests  below  or  above  ground,  and  are  very 
destructive.  They  never  work  in  the  light, 
but  always  build  a covered  run-way  wherever 
they  commit  their  depredations;  thus  they  can 
be  traced  easily  and  obstructed.  Nearly  all 
kinds  of  wood,  leather,  cloth,  and  such  materials, 
are  tasty  morsels  to  the  white  ant.  A board 
left  on  the  ground  at  night  will  sometimes  be 
completely  covered  by  their  earthen  work-shop 
the  next  morning.  At  one  time  during  the 
initial  stages  of  our  work  we  neglected  to  watch, 
and  paid  the  penalty  by  having  the  bottoms  of 
a trunk  and  a suit-ease  badly  eaten.  At  another 
lax  period  a number  of  books  had  their  covers 
nearly  all  devoured. 

Ordinarily  the  white  ants  can  be  kept  out 
by  thick  cement  floors,  and  an  occasional  look 
round  to  see  that  they  are  not  starting  any- 
thing up  the  outside  walls.  When  we  built  our 
house  I was  sure  no  sensible  white  ant  would 
attempt  four  inches  of  concrete  and  one  inch  of 
solid  cement.  But  they  did,  and  actually  came 
up  through  where  we  could  see  no  sign  of  a 
crack  or  a flaw.  One  morning  I came  down- 
stairs to  find,  right  in  the  middle  of  the  front- 
room  floor,  what  looked  like  a little  clay  model 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


205 


of  a tree.  The  tiny  creatures  had  bored  up 
through  the  cement  and,  finding  nothing  to 
eat,  had  constructed  a hollow  run-way  right  up 
into  the  air,  with  branches  shooting  off  in 
different  directions  as  if  trying  to  feel  something 
edible.  Of  course  we  demolished  this  beginning 
of  a mud  forest,  and  poured  crude  oil  down  the 
hole,  which  settled  them  in  that  place  for  a 
long  time  to  come.  V arious  insecticides  will  kill 
them;  but  they  are  innumerable,  resourceful, 
and  persistent. 

The  stranger  to  the  country  concludes  from 
all  this  that  it  must  be  a constant  vexation  of 
spirit— and  very  little  vanity— to  keep  house  in 
Burma.  But  it  isn’t,  when  one  gets  used  to  it. 
In  building  it  is  no  more  difficult  and  expensive 
to  provide  against  vermin  and  pests  in  Burma 
than  it  is  to  provide  against  extreme  cold  in 
more  frigid  latitudes.  The  people  are  not 
bothered  nearly  so  much  with  flies;  for,  thanks 
to  nature’s  scavenger  system  and  the  English 
government’s  excellent  sanitary  precautions  in 
the  towns,  there  are  few  flies  in  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  HEAT  AND  THE  HILLS 

IT  IS  the  month  of  April.  In  northern  climes 
nature  is  just  beginning  to  twitch  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  for  summer’s  smile;  in  south 
latitudes  a winter  frown  gathers  on  her  brow; 
in  Burma  the  face  of  the  earth  tans  and  blisters 
under  a zenith  sun.  Heat  is  ascending,  and  you 
can’t  get  off  the  top.  Heat  is  descending  ,and 
you  can’t  get  out  from  under.  Fume  and  fret 
about  it,  and  you  add  a third  source  of  warmth. 
Take  it  coolly  and  reflect  sunshine — literally 
and  figuratively.  The  world  moves  fastest  at 
the  equator,  but  its  inhabitants  who  live  there 
must  move  the  most  slowly. 

Stand  here  a moment  and  look  down  the  road. 
The  wavy  atmosphere  ascends  as  from  a hot 
stove.  Feel  the  glare  of  the  bare,  baked  earth 
in  aching  eyes  and  throbbing  forehead.  Sense 
the  withering,  scorching  breeze  that  fairly 
puffs  your  face.  Your  spine  carries  a dizzy, 
sickening  sensation  to  your  head.  Let  me 
draw  you  back  into  the  shade  of  the  house, 

206 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


2oy 


450  Pagodas  in  one  Inclosure,  Viewed  from  Mandalay  Hill 


even  though  its  102°  seems  to  give  no  relief; 
and  put  on  these  dark  spectacles  to  rest  your 
eyes. 


2o8 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


But  102°  in  the  shadow  is  not  extremely  hot. 
Why  such  care?  On  an  August  baking  day 
or  a July  haying  day  at  home  you  have  felt  as 
hot  as  you  do  now.  But  mark  this:  it  is  not  so 
much  the  tropic  heat  that  injures  as  it  is  the 
tropic  rays.  Scientists  have  found  that  sun 
rays  have  other  qualities  than  light  and  heat. 
The  actinic  rays,  those  capable  of  producing 
chemical  changes,  are  strong  in  the  direct  rays 
of  the  torrid  belt.  They  pierce  to  the  brain 
and  effect  injurious  and  lasting  results,  usually 
a weakening  of  nerve  power. 

It  is  a peculiar  fact  that,  while  in  India  and 
Burma  persons  from  colder  climates  wear  thick 
pith  helmets,  called  topees , and  often  carry  a 
sunshade  besides,  yet  the  natives  of  temperate 
zones  who  reside  in  other  parts  of  the  tropics, 
especially  in  the  West,  find  a thin  straw  hat 
a sufficient  protection.  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  wearing  of  a topee  is  only  an  unneces- 
sary habit  on  the  part  of  foreign  residents  in 
India.  However  that  may  be,  there  is  grave 
danger  in  going  out  in  the  noonday  sun  without 
one,  as  many  have  learned  to  their  unfitting 
for  labor.  One  may  “get  the  sun”  without 
feeling  very  hot;  and  some  persons  are  more 
susceptible  to  its  influence  than  others.  From 
casual  observation  it  would  seem  that  light- 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


209 


complexioned  individuals  fare  worse  in  this 
respect  than  the  darker  ones. 

From  June  to  October  the  climate  is  warm 
and  wet;  from  November  to  February  it  is 
cool  and  dry;  from  March  to  May  it  is  hot 
and  dry.  But  during  the  whole  annual  round 
the  midday  heat  is  uncomfortable.  Aside  from 
the  rays  before  mentioned,  the  foreigner  suffers 
from  the  almost  unchanging  high  temperature. 
Day  by  day  the  vital  fluid  becomes  more  thin 
and  sluggish,  and  there  is  a “washed-out” 
feeling  which  is  very  depressing.  Frequent  fur- 
loughs home  are  impossible.  The  heights  pro- 
vide the  only  respite.  Every  yard  upward  is 
a mile  northward.  “As  the  shadow  of  a great 
rock  in  a weary  land,”  so  is  the  air  of  the  hills 
in  the  torrid  heat.  We  are  not  oblivious  to 
the  lesson  conveyed,  and  our  desire  for  the 
“ heavenly  hills  ” becomes  greater  at  the  thought. 

I had  spent  two  hot  seasons  in  the  pit,  and 
was  off  for  the  hills  at  last.  A wakeful  night 
ride  on  a dusty,  stuffy  train  landed  me  at  the 
nearest  railway  station,  thirty  miles  from  a 
chosen  retreat.  The  others  had  gone  before, 
and  I was  to  make  the  trip  alone  on  a bicycle. 
A friend  had  warned  of  dacoits  (robbers),  but,  too 
eager  to  wait  till  day,  when  the  half-moon 
rose  for  my  beacon  at  three  o’clock,  my  mount 


210  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

glided  out  over  the  white  reaches  of  road  that 
wound  around  among  the  rice-fields  and  through 
the  jungle.  The  height  of  the  forest  and  the 
density  of  underbrush  cast  Cimmerian  shadows 
over  the  way;  but  the  weird  feeling  attendant 
therewith  was  relieved  by  the  twinkling  of 
thousands  of  fireflies  flitting  beneath  the  trees 
on  either  side. 

After  a ride  of  several  miles  all  signs  of  human 
presence  and  habitation  were  passed.  Quietness 
was  resting  heavily,  when  suddenly  an  owl 
smote  the  stillness  with  a blood-freezing  screech, 
and  scurried  away  ahead,  awakening  the  echoes 
into  a score  of  answering  cries.  Other  night- 
birds  made  protest  to  the  dark  apparition  that 
so  stealthily  invaded  their  quiet  domain,  as  it 
sped  swiftly  over  the  white  roadway,  and  was 
gone.  But  for  all  that  the  rider  shuddered  at 
feelings  uncanny,  there  was  something  exhila- 
rating about  coming  close  to  the  haunts  of 
these  habitants  of  the  forest  who  are  in  league 
with  the  night. 

At  a near  approach  to  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
just  beyond  a sharp  turn  in  the  road,  several 
huge  black  objects  loomed  up  in  the  pale  moon- 
light. The  road  was  completely  obstructed,  and  I 
alighted  with  alacrity,  moving  forward  cau- 
tiously to  investigate.  I was  taken  aback  at 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


21 1 


finding  them  elephants,  tame  of  course,  but 
the  largest  I have  ever  seen,  and  quite  repellent. 
They  were  quietly  browsing  on  the  bushes 
at  the  roadside,  and  at  first  seemed  unattended; 
but  soon  I perceived  a keeper  on  the  back  of 
each  one,  almost  invisible  as  they  slept  or 
showed  the  faint  glow  of  the  crude  cigars  they 
smoked.  Slipping  past  the  gigantic  bodies,  I 
felt  distinct  relief  at  leaving  them  behind. 

As  the  east  showed  faint  tracings  of  ap- 
proaching day,  the  ascent  was  begun.  It  was 
necessary  to  push  my  wheel  for  sixteen  miles 
up  the  winding  road  as  I walked.  Up,  up,  up, 
mile  after  mile,  around  and  back,  twisting, 
curving,  but  always  ascending — dragging  foot- 
steps enlivened  only  by  the  near  prospect  of 
cooling  breezes  and  the  more  distant  one  of 
coasting  down  these  steeps  on  my  return. 
Gradually  rising  above  the  heat  and  dust  and 
glare,  the  air  ever  becoming  perceptibly  more 
refreshing,  I came  to  autumn  in  the  spring. 
For  was  it  not  April?  and  here  were  the  dry 
leaves  crackling  under  my  feet  and  falling  in 
showers  at  every  gust.  Red  and  brown  and 
yellow  they  were,  and  all  the  tints — but  you 
know.  There  was  that  indescribable  influence 
in  the  air  that  I had  thought  only  October 
knew, — the  quiet  peace  of  summer  falling  asleep, 


212  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

the  glorious  “Indian  summer”  of  a more 
familiar  land. 

The  jungle  giants,  with  the  fitful  help  of  the 
passing  breeze,  were  fast  laying  aside  their 
erstwhile  garments,  finding  best  wardrobes  in 
sheltered  nooks  among  the  rocks.  But  strange 
for  me  to  see  and  relate,  they  still  maintained 
a liberal  show  of  green,  seeming  to  have  taught 
the  people  of  this  land  their  custom  of  doffing 
the  old  and  donning  the  new  in  the  same  action. 
The  denser  foliage  was  gone,  however,  and  many 
former  retreats  of  parrot  and  monkey  were 
exposed,  only  forming  better  hiding-places  for 
the  ground-folk,  bright-colored  pheasants  and 
feather-tailed  squirrels.  Trees  of  a hundred 
years  stretched  up  tiptoe  from  the  high  cliffs 
or  crouched  low  in  the  nether  valleys.  Springs 
of  clear  water  dripped  from  the  rocky  steeps  and 
gurgled  under  the  well-kept  culverts.  Over  all, 
the  morning  sun  broke  through  the  autumn 
haze,  like  the  royal  chariot  appearing  through 
the  smoke  of  battle,  bringing  courage  and  cheer 
to  the  sentinels  of  the  night. 

I stood  entranced,  thrilled,  dumb.  Burma 
had  redeemed  itself.  From  the  hills  had  come 
my  help. 

There  was  inspiration  in  it.  And  being 
given  to  rhymes,  as  I sat  on  a convenient  stone 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


213 


by  the  roadside,  I took  out  my  little  noteboc  k 

and  pencil  and  wrote: 

When  the  atmosphere  is  fiery  in  the  oven  of 
Rangoon, 

And  the  oven  door  is  closed  upon  the  sultriness 
of  noon; 

When  the  heat  arises  wavingly  and  sunshine 
falls  in  sheets; 

And  the  dust  is  light  and  choky  midst  the 
friction  of  the  streets, 

Turn  away  from  perspiration  and  a hundred 
season  ills, 

To  the  high  and  healthy  Thandaung,  viewful 
Thandaung  of  the  hills. 

When  the  eye-balls  burn  like  fire  in  the  glare  of 
Mandalay ; 

Earth  and  firmament  conspire  to  disgrace  the 
month  of  May; 

When  the  fever-touch  of  prickly  heat  makes 
clothes  rub  like  a file, 

And  you  just  pretend  to  sleep  and  disremember 
how  to  smile; 

Flee  away  from  all  the  broiling  and  the  worry- 
thought  that  kills, 

And  invest  a month  in  Thandaung,  cooling 
Thandaung  of  the  hills. 


214  /«  tlie  Land  of  Pagodas 

When  the  lake  is  burnished  silver  by  desirable 
Meiktila, 

And  there’s  no  relief  from  parching  even  in  a 
lakeside  villa; 

When  a dull,  indifferent  appetite  makes  brows- 
ing food  a duty, 

And  the  misery'  of  living  far  eclipses  all  the 
beauty ; 

Then  away  to  sylvan  valleys  where  the  cloud  - 
mist  sweet  distills 

O’er  the  wooded  peaks  of  Thandaung,  restful 
Thandaung  of  the  hills. 

Denizens  of  dust,  remember,  going  up  is  going 
north ; 

’Tis  the  season  when  the  hilltops  pour  their 
autumn  beauties  forth. 

Quit  the  petty7  earth  annoyances,  the  city’s 
vain  conceits; 

Revel  to  your  heart’s  content  in  Burma’s  sky 
retreats. 

Flout  the  doctor’s  bitter  medicines  and  sugar- 
coated  pills; 

Fly  away  above  the  marshes;  visit  Thandaung 
of  the  hills. 

The  experience  of  over  a hundred  years  of 

Protestant  missions  in  southern  Asia  has  taught 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


215 


mission  boards  that  the  missionary  must  have  a 
month  or  six  weeks  in  the  hills  every  year 
during  the  hot  season  in  order  to  continue  in 


A Rest  Home  in  the  Shan  Hills  for  the  Burma  Missionaries 


the  field  and  maintain  health.  Also  that  he 
should  spend  a year  in  the  homeland  after  long 
periods  of  work  to  keep  that  freshness  and 
vigor  that  is  so  necessary  to  the  life-time  laborer 
in  depressing  heathen  lands.  - And  this  for 
ordinary  circumstances  and  average  health. 
Frail  bodies  often  must  have  longer  furloughs 
and  more  frequent  changes,  or  not  continue 
in  the  work  at  all.  If  the  missionary  does  not 


2l6 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


occasionally  break  the  strain  of  the  work,  the 
strain  of  the  work  will  break  him.  It  is  economy 
in  the  long  run  to  conserve  health  even  at  what 
seems  excessive  costs. 

The  foreigner  from  temperate  zones  soon 
learns  to  appreciate  the  hill  stations  of  tropical 
countries.  He  longs  for  a permanent  rest-home 
in  high  altitudes,  to  which  he  can  fly  as  to  a 
refuge  when  the  humid  heat  is  insufferable 
in  the  plains. 

While  our  early  missionaries  frequented  Than- 
daung  and  rented  quarters;  in  later  years 
Kalaw,  a more  desirable  location  in  the  Shan 
Hills  east  of  Meiktila,  was  chosen  as  our  perma- 
nent hill  home.  And  there,  in  a climate  that 
rivals  the  central  southern  United  States,  com- 
modious bungalows  have  been  built.  The 
workers  resort  to  them  in  groups  of  three  or 
four  families  at  a time  during  the  months  of 
March,  April,  and  May.  When  the  rains  begin 
in  June  all  are  ready  to  descend  to  the  plains 
again  and  plunge  anew  into  the  work  with 
fresh  zeal.  A native  is  hired  to  take  care  of 
the  houses  and  grounds  the  year  round  for  a 
small  wage.  They  are  provided  with  beds, 
tables,  chairs,  and  some  dishes,  while  the 
occupants  bring  with  them  all  the  necessary 
personal  effects  that  are  to  make  comfortable 
their  camp-meeting-like  outing. 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills 


217 

Kalaw  hides  in  a lovely  little  valley  in  the 
pine  country,  where  the  crisp,  clean  pine  needles 
carpet  the  ground  inches  thick.  Huge  clumps 
of  bamboos  cluster  along  the  streams ; and 
harmless  forest  fires  glow  in  the  night.  It  is 
the  haunt  of  monkeys  and  deer;  the  place  of 
raspberries  wild  and  strawberries  tame,  of  pine- 
apples and  figs,  of  rare  quality  potatoes,  puffed 
rice,  and  peanut  candy;  in  short,  while  not 
possessing  all  that  is  ideal,  it  is  a change — a 
change  of  temperature,  of  air,  of  food,  of  sur- 
roundings, of  view,  of  noises  and  smells;  and  a 
change  is  rest  to  those  who  are  sick  of  sameness 
and  routine. 

But  the  hill  vacation  is  not  spent  in  idleness. 
There  are  neglected  letters  to  write,  put-off 
reading  and  study  to  do,  long  tramps  in  the 
open,  and  vigorous  play.  And  too,  a missionary 
could  not  come  into  contact  with  the  com- 
paratively few  hill  folk  without  doing  some- 
thing to  help  them  just  a little.  So  sundry 
friendly  overtures  are  made  toward  the  simple 
natives  who  are  met  on  jungle  trails  or  in  the 
little  markets.  It  is  significant  that  the  nearer 
these  primitive  people  are  to  “nature”  the 
farther  they  are  from  God.  The  most  isolated  are 
generally  the  most  base,  yet  they  are  more  simple- 
hearted  and  easily  reached  by  gospel  truth. 


2l8 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


One  day  we  met  a happy  exception  to  this 
baseness,  if  appearances  count.  We  were  going 
for  a little 
tramp  up  a 
valley  among 
the  hills  and 
met  an  old 
cult  iva  tor 
driving  h i s 
skinny  cows 
and  carrying 
a few  sticks 
home  for  the 
evening  fire. 

He  was  bent 
far  over  upon 
a cane,  and 
everything 
he  wore  was 
of  one  color, 
that  of  mud. 

As  we  passed 
he  raised  his 
head,  and  we 
were  shocked 
— agreeably 
shocked.  In- 
stead of  the  usual  black,  toothless  cavern  that 


A Padaung  Woman,  One  Type  of  the  Hill  People. 
Long  Necks  are  the  Style,  and  She  Adds  Rings 
to  Hers  Till  it  Conforms  to  the  Latest 


The  Heat  and  the  Hills  21Q 

serves  as  a mouth  in  the  faces  of  so  many  of 
those  aged  men,  or  the  sin- wrinkled  counte- 
nance of  a man  grown  old  in  debasing  habits, 
we  saw  a face  that  fairly  beamed  goodness  and 
good-nature.  It  was  very  old  and  seamed, 
and  there  was  not  a tooth  in  his  head ; but  every 
one  of  those  crow-toes  about  his  eyes  told  a 
story  that  I should  love  to  have  repeated  in 
detail.  He  accorded  us  a very  benediction  of  a 
smile,  mumbled  that  we  had  better  not  go  very 
far  as  night  was  coming  on,  and  hobbled  on  his 
way.  I hope  the  picture  of  that  old  man’s 
face  will  remain  with  me  forever,  and  I believe 
it  will. 

No  doubt  the  far-scattered  hill-tribes  of 
Burma  would  get  much  less  attention  from 
Christianizing,  civilizing  influences  if  the  heat 
of  the  lowlands  did  not  drive  the  missionaries  to 
the  high  retreats  every  year.  Contact  begets 
interest,  and  interest  begets  love.  And,  too, 
as  some  of  the  most  pleasant  memories  of  the 
Christian  worker  in  torrid  climates  are  con- 
nected with  his  hill  vacations,  we  are  led  after 
all  to  exclaim,  “Blessed  be  heat!”  No  heat, 
no  hills.  And  the  hills  are  a world  of  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


PLAY  TIME 

IT  MAY  seem  strange  to  begin  a chapter 
bearing  such  a title  by  describing  a funeral; 
but  the  reader  will  conclude  that  it  ap- 
propriately belongs  here.  It  would  seem  from 
observation  that  all  non-Christian  peoples  make 
the  ceremonies  attendant  on  a death  an  occasion 
for  having  a gay  time. 

“Why  doesn’t  the  procession  proceed?”  I 
questioned,  on  joining  a group  of  Burmese  friends 
who  stood  waiting  for  a delayed  funeral  train. 

“They  are  waiting  for  the  lemonade  cart  to 
come  up.  ” was  the  answer.  I was  surprised  with 
that  surprise  which  comes  from  being  many 
times  surprised.  A funeral  waiting  for  the 
lemonade!  Curiosity  bade  me  attend  that 
funeral. 

And  while  we  are  waiting  allow  me  to  digress 
a little.  In  Rangoon  there  are  native  under- 
takers who  get  their  business  from  the  Chris- 
tian— but  not  altogether  Westernized— native 
population.  One  such  undertaker  has  a hearse 


220 


Play  Time 


221 


which  is  an  imitation  of  the  most  imposing 
American  pattern — ssuggestive  ornaments  above, 
glass  sides,  white  draperies  inside,  a low  platform 
for  the  coffin,  high  front  seat,  high-stepping 
team,  and  all.  Coolies  from  the  street,  not 
friends  of  the  deceased,  are  mustered  as  pall- 
bearers, and  these  are  provided  by  the  funeral 
director.  These  bearers  run  alongside  the 
hearse  as  the  corpse  is  being  conveyed  to  the 
cemetry. 

One  day  we  met  this  grand  equipage  coming 
back  from  the  graveyard  after  its  usual  trip. 
As  it  swept  past,  our  Western  eyes  were  shocked 
by  a sight  that  for  the  moment  took  our  breath. 
The  four  pall-bearers  were  sitting  one  behind 
the  other  inside  the  hearse  where  the  coffin 
had  recently  rested,  and  peering  out  from  among 
the  curtains.  Their  dusky  faces  and  roving 
eyes,  together  with  the  close  position  into  which 
they  were  compelled  to  squeeze,  gave  on  an 
instant  the  impression  that  the  dead  had  come 
to  life  and  in  surprised  protest  was  seeking  a 
way  out  of  his  confinement.  To  us,  who  never 
before  had  even  imagined  such  a situation,  the 
effect  was  extremely  weird  and  uncanny.  How- 
ever, these  were  not  Burmans.  The  incident  is  a 
little  touch  of  India,  and  illustrates  that  in  the 
East  one  may  expect  to  see  strange  combi- 
nations. 


222  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

Though  the  Buddhist  religion  is  very  pure 
in  principle  when  compared  with  other  religions 
of  India  and  Burma,  yet  there  are  few  Buddhists 
today  who  keep  strictly  the  precepts  of  Gauta- 
ma. Devil-worship  is  mingled  with  their  beliefs, 
and  many  superstitious  practises  are  followed. 
For  many  of  the  rites  performed  by  the  devotees 
of  the  great  Indian  prince,  few  worshipers  can 
give  the  reason  or  origin.  This  is  very  true  of 
the  customs  connected  with  funeral  ceremonies. 
My  narration  will  be  of  what  is  done  at  a 
funeral  rather  than  of  any  explanation  of  its 
significance.  If  any  reasons  are  suggested,  let 
it  be  understood  that  they  belong  to  the  on- 
looker; for  very  likely  they  may  not  exist  in 
the  minds  of  the  participants,  whose  processes 
of  mind  are  absolutely  different  from  ours. 

A death  occurs,  and  the  pent  grief  of  the 
human  heart,  in  the  presence  of  the  great  sting, 
overflows  in  manifestations  known  too  well  by 
all  of  us.  A band  of  music  is  engaged,  and 
begins  to  play,  continuing  to  do  so  night  and 
day  until  the  burial.  In  all  seriousness  we 
should  term  this  the  classical  music  of  Burma. 
Being  unappreciative,  we  call  it  noise.  The 
instruments  are  few  in  number,  consisting  of  a 
kind  of  flute,  some  crude  drums  thumped  with 
the  fleshy  part  of  the  hand,  and  sticks  which  are 


A Funeral  Scene  Before  the  I’roecBsion,  the  Decorated  Ilcorsc  in  the  Baek|<rouiid  and  Musicians  in  Front 

223 


224 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


clapped  together.  Sometimes  to  these  is  added 
the  tapping  of  little  bells.  When  the  players 
tire,  others  take  their  places;  and  as  the  long 
hours  of  the  night  drag  on,  those  who  watch, 
in  order  to  keep  a- “wake,”  gamble,  play 
games,  and  drink  in  a fashion  not  unfamiliar  to 
other  peoples.  This  band  playing,  which  is  not 
entirely  without  an  element  of  real  music,  has 
no  doubt  something  to  do  with  driving  away 
the  evil  spirits  or  enticing  the  good.  We  could 
recommend  it  for  the  former  purpose. 

Meanwhile  some  male  member  of  the  family 
is  off  to  the  saw-pit,  and  soon  returns  with 
lumber  for  the  coffin,  which  he  nails  together 
in  the  street  in  front  of  the  house.  Friends 
and  relatives  are  called,  and  there  is  much 
festivity.  Judging  by  the  actions  of  those 
present,  the  whole  affair  is  treated  with  a spirit 
of  indifference  or  levity.  The  Burmese  ex- 
pression for  funeral  means  “the  unpleasant 
bearing  out,  ” but  appearances  would  cause  us  to 
omit  the  negative  prefix  of  the  adjective. 

The  coffin  is  a rough  box,  decorated  or  not 
according  to  the  will  or  affluence  of  the  person 
who  bears  the  expense.  If  delay  causes  the 
corpse  to  become  obnoxious,  powdered  charcoal 
or  other  preservative  is  used  to  cover  it.  For- 
merly dead  bodies  were  kept  for  some  days 


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225 


before  burial,  but  it  is  now  coming  to  be  the 
custom  to  inter  within  a much  shorter  time. 

The  hearse  occupies  much  attention.  One  is 
built  new  for  each  funeral,  from  the  wheels  up. 
The  frame-work  is  of  bamboo,  and  the  decora- 
tions consist  of  colored  cloth,  paper,  and  tinsel, 
arranged  with  the  highest  artistic  skill  of  the 
makers.  Sometimes  the  canopy  top  is  made 
very  high,  especially  when  a priest  or  some 
prominent  person  is  carried,  and  then  there  is 
great  difficulty  passing  under  trees  and  wires. 
Usually  four  wheels  are  used,  a departure  from 
the  cart  habit,  and  the  writer  has  seen  a 
carriage  for  the  coffin  of  a child  constructed  by 
connecting  two  bicycles  with  a rigid  frame. 
Of  whatever  form,  rigidity  characterizes  these 
vehicles,  and,  having  no  means  of  guidance, 
they  are  sure  to  be  trouble  wagons  with  other 
than  most  careful  handling.  In  anticipation  of 
difficulty  the  coffins  are  tied  on  with  ropes. 

First  in  the  procession,  the  priests  march  se- 
dately; then  the  corpse  on  its  vehicle  appears, 
propelled -by  friends  or  whoever  wishes  to  lend 
a hand,  usually  the  gay  young  men  of  the  town. 
The  immediate  family  of  the  deceased  follow 
the  hearse  on  foot.  Then  come  the  gifts  for 
the  priests.  These  are  borne  in  flat  baskets  on 
the  heads  of  the  most  beautiful  and  well-dressed 


8 


226 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


maids  of  the  neighborhood.  They  walk  in  two 
rows,  and  thoroughly  enjoy  the  distinction. 
Their  baskets  contain  boxes  of  matches,  candles, 
fruits,  cigars,  betel-nut  boxes,  and  other  such 
small  articles,  while  carts  follow  them  bearing 
bags  of  rice  and  the  other  heavier  gifts.  Some- 
times Indian  coolies  are  employed  to  join  the 
procession  and  carry  articles  dangling  from 
poles  on  their  shoulders.  It  is  a unique  sight 
to  see  slippers,  umbrellas,  lamps,  tins  of  biscuits, 
rugs,  and  robes  thus  borne  along.  The  band 
cart  has  a prominent  place,  and  the  players 
keep  up  a continuous  tooting  and  thumping. 
Last  of  all,  but,  to  all  appearances,  not  least 
in  importance,  come  the  refreshment  carts, 
filled  with  lemonade,  gifts,  and  eatables  for  the 
attending  crowd.  Whatever  the  purpose  of  this 
contingent  at  the  rear,  it  works  out  in  insuring 
a popular  funeral,  if  popularity  is  to  be  measured 
in  crowds  of  self-seekers. 

Well,  our  particular  procession  is  at  last 
ready  to  start  off  again.  The  crowd  has  assured 
itself  that  the  lemonade  cart  is  in  evidence, 
and  is  content  to  trudge  on.  We  join  the  happy 
throng,  and  precede  or  follow  the  hearse,  or 
make  short  cuts  at  will,  in  imitation  of  all  the 
others.  And  oh,  here  is  a new  element  that 
we  hadn’t  noticed  before,  because  they  were 


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227 


mingling  with  the  crowd — clowns,  at  least  they 
look  and  act  just  like  the  clowns  of  the  circus 
parade  at  home  in  America.  They  are  half 

naked  men, 
supposed  to  be 
dressed  and 
painted  to  rep- 
resent angels 
and  devils. 
And  such  an- 
tics, and  joking 
and  laughter! 
Small  boys  go 
into  ecstacies. 
The  clowns  are 
pulling  a little 
affair  mounted 
on  wheels, 
which  is  made 
of  cloth  and 
looks  like  a 
cannon.  There 
is  great  interest 
in  this,  but  all 
it  does  for  the 


lie  Attends  the  Funeral  to  Represent  an  Angel 


present  is  to 
pique  curiosity. 
The  priests  have  gone  far  ahead  and  are 


228 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


sitting  by  the  roadside  to  rest.  With  the 
excuse  of  making  up  lost  time,  there  is  great 
bustle  at  the  hearse.  Some  playful  boys  have 
been  pushing  it  back  and  forth  and  jumping  on 
for  a ride.  These  are  unceremoniously  knocked 
aside,  and  while  they  cry  the  onlookers  laugh. 
The  men  who  push  and  pull  are  smoking  and 
joking.  Away  they  go  on  a run,  down  a hill, 
through  a sandy  place,  and  up  on  the  other 
side.  Having  no  way  of  guiding  it,  the  con- 
veyance swerves  off  the  road  into  the  ditch 
and  sways  fearfully.  Perhaps  it  is  not  an 
accident.  We  have  seen  youth  wink  at  each 
other,  lift  the  back  end  over  and  give  the 
affair  a push  sideways.  Anyway,  no  one  seems 
bothered.  There  is  much  yelling  and  laughter 
as  the  vehicle  is  righted,  backed  up,  and  sent 
on  its  way  again. 

In  due  time  the  parade  reaches  the  cemetery. 
Burmese  burial-places  seem  to  have  been  lo- 
cated with  the  idea  of  not  wasting  on  the  dead 
any  land  that  is  useful  to  the  living.  Especially 
in  the  upper  country  there  is  such  a scarcity 
of  fertile  ground  that  the  cemetries  are  placed 
on  stony  plots.  Funerals  are  held  in  the  after- 
noon; and  since  morning  some  friends  of  the 
deceased  have  been  engaged  in  digging  the 
grave  on  this  desolate  hilltop.  But  it  is  hard 


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229 


work,  and  they  have  reached  a depth  of  only  two 
feet  when  the  procession  arrives.  But  it  does 
not  matter;  the  crowd  will  help;  and  perhaps 
that  is  the  underlying  reason  why  more  energy 
has  not  been  displayed  in  getting  it  done  in 
time. 

One  of  the  vanguard  volunteers,  grasps  the 
hoe-like  mattock,  and  jumps  into  the  hole. 
The  thuds  of  the  instrument  and  the  grunts  of 
the  digger  are  accompanied  by  the  usual  witti- 
cisms indulged  in  by  the  crowd  when  there  are 
many  bosses  and  one  workman.  When  the  first 
recruit  has  worked  up  a sweat,  another  takes 
his  place,  and  so  on  till  the  grave  is  deep  enough, 
— which  depth  usually  stops  far  short  of  six 
feet. 

Meanwhile  the  coffin  is  removed  from  its 
carrier  and  laid  to  one  side.  In  fact,  it  receives 
very  little  if  any  attention  during  the  whole 
ceremony.  Everything  done  seems  to  be  centered 
on  the  living,  not  on  the  dead.  The  priests 
range  themselves  in  a row,  and  then  seat  them- 
selves on  mats  laid  on  the  ground.  Just  back 
of  each  priest  is  a little  boy,  his  attendant,  who 
has  come  to  bear  away  the  presents.  And  in 
front  of  the  priestly  row  all  these  gifts  are 
piled;  while  beyond  them  the  relatives  of  the 
dead  are  grouped  in  a kneeling  posture.  The 


2 jo  I'll  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

priests  in  concert  mumble  what  seems  to  be  a 
prayer,  at  a rapid  chant,  and  the  worshipers 
mumble  in  response  as  they  bow  low  and  touch 
their  heads  to  the  ground  again  and  again. 

This  continues  for  several  minutes;  and  then 
suddenly  the  priests  rise  to  their  feet  and  thus 
indicate  that  the  procedure  is  finished.  This 
rising  is  the  signal  for  the  small-boy  attendants 
of  the  holy  men  to  make  a wild  scramble  for 
the  presents,  each  trying  to  do  the  best  he  can 
by  his  master.  The  yellow-robed  figures  dis- 
dainfully ignore  this  disgraceful  action,  and, 
turning  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the 
left,  they  walk  in  single  file  back  to  the  kyanng, 
followed  by  the  proud  little  gift-grabbers. 

Meanwhile  again — for  there  are  four  centers 
of  attraction,  which  keep  the  crowd  surging 
back  and  forth — there  is  a clamor  for  the 
refreshments.  The  lemonade — an  aerated  water, 
like  “soda  pop”  in  America — is  distributed  and 
popped,  and  there  is  great  exuberance  of 
spirits.  Sweets  and  biscuits  also  go  the  round; 
and  quite  a banquet  ensues. 

Fourthly,  the  clowns  do  their  prettiest  and 
ugliest  and  funniest.  The  little  cannon  is  set 
off  and  goes  flying  about  over  the  ground  as  it 
explodes,  hitting  the  legs  of  the  onlookers  and 
chasing  small  boys.  This  causes  great  hilarity, 
and  is  equal  to  the  greased  pig. 


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231 

And  then, — the  crowd  goes  home.  For  what’s 
the  use  of  staying  when  the  show  is  over  and 
they  are  under  no  obligation  to  respect  the 
dead  as  we  do.  In  this  funeral  the  refresh- 
ment period  was  not  timed  right,  and  the  grave 
is  not  finished.  From  habit  we  linger  to  see  the 
body  interred.  And  we  see  what  otherwise  we 
would  have  missed— the  manifestations  of  un- 
consoled and  unrestrained  grief  on  the  part  of 
those  near  and  dear  to  the  one  who  to  them 
is  gone  forever.  They  wail,  and  roll  on 
the  ground,  and  pull  out  handfuls  of  hair. 
It  is  pitiable.  The  sorrow  of  those  “who  have 
no  hope”  is  heart-breaking,  even  to  those  who 
are  but  spectators.  So  even  in  Burma,  death 
is  an  enemy  after  all. 

But  enough  of  this,  and  on  to  merry  times 
which,  to  the  reader  at  least,  will  suggest 
happier  thoughts. 

No  one  needs  to  be  told  that  children  the 
world  over  love  to  play;  and  the  only  difference 
in  them  is  that  some  have  more  opportunity  to 
play  than  others,  and  so  know  more  about  it. 
In  countries  where  the  children  have  to  work 
in  early  years  they  turn  their  work  into  play. 
Burmese  girls  and  boys — especially  boys — have 
a play  chance  above  the  average  in  eastern  lands. 
Men  and  women  play,  too,  but  first  mention 


2J2 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


is  due  to  the  natural  players — the  youngsters. 

I suppose  that,  ever  since  the  wondering 
eyes  of  little  Cain  and  Abel  saw  the  first  apple 
or  walnut  drop  from  a tree  and  roll  down  the 
hill,  the  world’s  children  have  liked  to  play  with 
balls.  Of  course  Burmese  boys  are  not  found 
playing  ball,  but  they  play  with  a ball.  There 
is  a difference.  I tried  in  the  school  at  Meiktila, 
by  instruction  and  long-continued  example,  to 
play  baseball;  but  they  never  got  beyond  the 
“butter-finger”  stage,  and  excused  themselves 
by  saying  that  baseball  is  a boy’s  game,  but 
football  is  a man’s  game;  forsooth,  because  the 
English  officials  have  encouraged  football.  The 
football  played  is  the  real  kicking  variety,  and  is 
becoming  quite  popular. 

The  Burman  schoolboys  make  a hand  ball 
out  of  something,  even  if  it  is  only  a rolled-up 
rag  or  a wound-up  length  of  cane.  One  ball 
game  of  theirs  is  played  like  this:  vSay  sixteen 
boys  will  choose  up  equal  sides.  All  gird  up 
their  skirt-like  longees  about  their  loins  for 
greater  freedom.  Then  the  boys  on  one  side 
climb  on  the  backs  of  those  on  the  other  side  in 
the  way  familiar  to  us  all.  The  eight  “horses” 
arrange  themselves  in  a circle,  each  one  about 
fifteen  feet  from  the  next.  Then  the  riders  toss 
the  ball  to  each  other  around  the  circle;  and 


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233 


the  rule  is  that  the  horses  must  stand  in  one 
spot  while  the  game  is  in  progress,  though 
they  may  move  their  bodies  in  order  to  make 
the  riders  miss  the  ball  if  possible.  If  the  ball 
goes  around  once  without  being  missed,  the 
whole  group  move  around  one  space  to  the  left, 
amid  great  shouting  on  the  part  of  the  victori- 
ous riders.  This  is  one  inning — or  may  we  call  it 
an  upping?  If  this  is  repeated  eight  times,  or 
until  the  horses  get  around  to  where  they 
started,  the  riders  have  won  the  game.  But 
rarely  does  this  occur.  Instead,  the  ball  is  soon 
missed  by  some  rider;  whereupon  all  the  riders 
are  dismounted  in  a hurry  and  become  horses 
for  their  erstwhile  riders,  till  the  ball  is  muffed 
again.  It  is  good  sport,  and  is  worth  trying 
anywhere. 

The  typical  Burmese  football  is  made  of  strips 
of  cane — such  as  are  used  to  cane  chair-seats, 
but  heavier — wound  into  a hollow  ball  about 
five  inches  in  diameter.  The  game  with  this 
is  very  simple — to  describe,  but  not  to  play  well. 
About  eight  players  gird  up,  and  form  a circle. 
The  object  is  to  keep  the  ball  flying  in  graceful 
curves  through  the  air  from  one  to  another  and 
not  let  it  touch  the  ground  or  anyone’s  hands. 
One  will  start  it  across  the  circle  with  his  toe; 
another  will  return  it  by  striking  it  with  his 


234  A Quiet  Game  of  Burmese  Football.  Up  in  the  Corner  is  the  Ball  Itself  Knhirgeri 


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235 

knee.  The  nearest  player  to  where  it  comes 
down  will  send  it  up  again  with  his  elbow, 
shoulder,  or  head.  It  takes  long  practise  to  be 
able  to  let  it  come  down  over  one’s  head  from 
the  front,  and,  by  hitting  it  with  the  heel,  send 
it  back  the  way  it  came.  It  is  a mild  exercise 
for  a quiet  evening  in  the  street  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  is  a game  for  the  quieter  sort  of 
larger  boys  and  men. 

The  little  girls  play  with  dolls,  usually  wooden 
or  rag  ones;  and  they  play  jacks  with  the  hard 
brown  seeds  of  a native  tree.  To  correspond 
with  rope  jumping,  minus  the  rope,  they  sit 
on  their  heels,  and  jump  around  while  in  this 
position,  seeing  who  can  keep  it  up  the  longest. 
There  is  a game  like  hop-scotch,  and  one  like 
prisoner’s  base. 

While  the  children  play  all  the  time  or  any- 
time, the  real  play  time  for  all  Burma  is  in  the 
evening,  beginning  at  eight  o’clock  and  many 
times  lasting  all  night.  The  cool  of  the  day  is 
the  time  to  work,  the  heat  of  the  day  is  the 
time  to  sleep,  and  the  cool  of  the  night  is  the 
time  to  play. 

Nearly  all  the  good  times  a Burman  has,  and 
especially  an  adult  Burman,  he  has  in  con- 
nection with  his  religion.  Christians  are  urged 
to  carry  their  religion  into  their  everyday  life, 


236 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


and  they  need  to  be  urged.  Buddhists  carry 
their  everyday  life  into  their  religion,  and  they 
do  not  need  to  be  urged.  If  the  Burman  wants 
to  see  a circus,  a circus-like  performance  is 
arranged  for  a religious  feast — or  pwe,  as  it  is 
called.  If  he  wants  to  gamble  (and  gambling 
is  a habit  among  Mongolians)  he  gambles  at 
the  pwe.  The  feasts  and  sabbaths  and  festivals 
and  consecrations  provide  the  “big  doings” 
in  Burma.  And  certainly,  when  religion  is  con- 
ceived of  as  a convenience,  this  method  has  its 
advantages.  But,  in  passing,  we  may  remark 
that  it  in  large  part  explains  why  it  is  so  hard  to 
separate  a Buddhist,  and  particularly  a fun- 
loving  Burmese  youth,  from  his  religion.  For 
his  religion  provides  everything  youth  naturally 
likes  to  do.  But  it  lacks  the  uplift. 

There  is  the  light  feast,  when  for  several 
nights  candles  innumerable — and  nowadays 
varicolored  electric  lights  where  electricity  is 
available — illuminate  the  fronts  of  the  houses 
in  artistic  arrangement,  or  are  set  in  rows 
along  the  streets. 

There  is  the  water  feast  just  before  the 
beginning  of  the  rains,  when  water  frolics  of 
every  description  are  all  the  fashion.  Then 
look  out  for  your  good  clothes.  Water  (seldom 
clean)  is  thrown  or  squirted  into  the  windows 


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237 


of  passing  cars  or  trains;  and  woe  to  the  well- 
dressed  Burmese  lady  in  the  street.  She  will 
be  drenched.  It  is  the  Burmese  Hallowe’en, 
translated  in  water. 

A pwe  is  held  in  honor  of  some  big  pagoda, 
some  historical  event,  a particularly  holy  day, 
or  as  a memorial  of  a dead  priest.  There  are 
more  or  less  daytime  doings,  but  the  popular 
time  is  at  night.  The  whole  celebration  par- 
takes of  the  nature  of  a street  fair,  or  carnival. 
Refreshment  and  gambling  booths  line  the 
streets,  and  “skin  games”  are  common.  There 
is  boxing,  and  music,  and  dancing,  and  puppet 
shows,  and  parades.  There  is  some  religious 
ceremony  connected  with  all  of  it,  but  it  is 
such  a side — or  back — issue  that  the  visitor 
would  not  notice  it.  The  whole  town  turns  out, 
and  meets  the  whole  countryside  on  the  thronged 
streets. 

The  parade  may  come  in  the  daytime.  It  is 
usually  made  up  of  decorated  carts,  men 
dressed — or  undressed — as  good  and  bad  spirits, 
men  at  sword  play,  and  huge  imitation  animals 
mounted  on  wheels.  Nearly  every  parade  “has 
a white  elephant  on  its  hands.  ” Burma  is  some- 
times called  “The  Land  of  the  White  Elephant,” 
as  there  attaches  to  that  animal  a certain 
sacredness.  A life-sized  figure  of  an  elephant 


The  Orchestra  and  the  Dan. 


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239 


will  be  made  of  bent  bamboos  covered  with  white 
cloth  and  paper.  The  ears,  tail,  and  trunk  are 
made  waggable,  and  as  the  quaking  spectacle 
rolls  down  the  street  two  men  in  the  hollow 
interior  flap  the  ears  and  move  the  trunk  and 
tail,  to  the  great  delight  of  hundreds  of  gleeful 
children  running  alongside. 

There  are  stiffly-acted  theatrical  shows  on 
gaudy  stages,  with  sing-song  conversation  pre- 
dominating. The  puppet-shows  are  Puneh-and- 
Judy  affairs  on  a larger  scale.  Crude  figures  of 
animals  and  people  are  manipulated  by  sup- 
posed-to-be-invisible wires  from  above  the  low 
stage.  They  leap  about  at  a great  rate,  and  get 
into  all  sorts  of  mix-ups.  Considerable  skill 
is  shown  in  handling  them.  Their  cutting  up 
is  interesting  to  the  foreign  visitor  for  about 
half  an  hour ; but  the  Burmese  will  sit  and  watch 
them  off  and  on  all  night. 

Burmese  girls  are  famous  for  their  dancing. 
They  do  not  “trip  the  light  fantastic  toe,”  but 
twist  the  sinuous  and  supple  body.  In  our 
dancing  our  feet  show  the  greatest  movement. 
In  Burmese  dancing  the  feet  are  the  only  parts 
of  the  body  that  do  not  move.  Then  is  it 
dancing?  Yes,  it  is,  but  the  Burmese  believe 
in  letting  the  whole  body  dance,  and  not  allow- 
ing the  lowly  feet  to  have  the  monopoly  of  it. 


240 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


And  this  is  good  sense  when  you  think  of  it. 

A small,  low  platform  about  the  size  of  a 
large  bed  is  placed  in  the  open  square  or  street, 
and  decorated  a bit.  The  band  is  stationed 
near  by,  and  consists  of  about  five  instruments : 
two  crudely  made  drums,  large  and  small,  to 
correspond  with  the  bass-  and  snare-drums  we 
have,  that  are  thumped  with  the  fleshy  part 
of  the  base  of  the  thumb,  and  are  kept  in  good 
tune  by  the  players  frequently  smearing  on 
their  surfaces  some  paste  of  burnt  rice  husk; 
a flute-like  instrument  with  a shrill  tone;  two 
bamboos  clapped  together  for  cymbals;  and  last 
and  largest  an  instrument  that  comes  nearer 
being  a xylophone  than  any  other  instrument 
we  know.  It  looks  like  a porch  railing  in 
circular  form,  and  about  four  feet  in  diameter. 
Between  each  two  spindles,  and  suspended  from 
the  top  rail  by  a string,  is  a saucer-shaped 
piece  of  brass;  each  of  these  is  of  different  size 
and  tone  from  the  others.  The  player  gets  in 
the  center  of  the  contraption,  sits  on  his  heels, 
and  with  two  little  wooden  mallets  in  his  hands 
strikes  the  saucers.  When  the  music  is  fast  and 
furious,  as  it  often  is,  it  is  necessary  for  him 
to  hop  around  in  a rather  lively  manner. 

The  dancer  demurely  takes  her  place,  and 
smiles  at  the  audience,  which  applauds  vocifer- 


Play  Time 


241 


ously.  Perhaps  she  blushes,  but  we  can’t  see 
through  the  thick  paste  on  her  face.  Her  hair  is 
done  up  tastily  on  her  head,  and  some  beautiful 

little  white 
flowers  adorn 
it.  Her  dress  is 
the  last  word 
in  Burmese 
fashionable  fe- 
male attire. 
Her  lace  jacket 
is  made  to  fluff 
out  with  stiff 
stays  and  the 
narrow  skirt 
trails  the  plat- 
form, so  even 
her  toes  are  in- 
visible. vSome- 
times  Burmese 
maids  dance 
in  groups,  but 
more  often 
they  do  it 
singly.  Good 
dancers  are  in 
great  demand, 
and  receive 
high  wages. 


She  Sways  Gracefully  to  the  Lilting  Music 


242 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


The  music  begins  with  a thump  and  a blare, 
and  the  newcomer,  all  eyes  on  the  dancing  figure, 
wonders  if  she  is  in  torturing  pain  and  going 
into  convulsions.  Her  neck  and  body  and  arms 
twist  and  turn  and  coil  in  the  most  fantastic 
contortions  imaginable,  as  she  sways  grace- 
fully to  the  lilting  strain  of  the  band.  The 
expression  on  her  ashy  face  and  in  her  flashing 
black  eyes  changes  from  comedy  to  tragedy, 
and  shows  in  turn  love,  hate,  scorn,  indifference, 
and  exhilarating  joy,  as  she  dances  through  a 
story  in  real  life.  There  is  no  word  nor  song. 
It  is  moving-picture-like  in  its  pantomime.  The 
visitor  says  she  acts  silly,  just  like  a foolish 
child  “putting  on  airs.”  But  no;  there  is  more 
in  it  than  that.  Yet  one  must  know  the  Bur- 
mese to  understand  it.  All  the  attractiveness 
of  the  drama  of  oriental  life  is  there.  The 
gathered  audience  watch  with  keen  interest, 
and  critically  appraise  the  ability  or  deficiency 
of  even'  move  the  serpentine  figure  makes. 

Hour  after  hour  the  performance  continues, 
with  seemingly  very  little  variety.  At  long 
intervals  the  girl  sinks  wearily  to  the  floor,  and 
there  is  a time  for  rest;  but  very  soon  she  is  up 
arid  at  it  again.  Families  bring  their  mat 
beds  to  the  show  and  unroll  them  on  the  ground. 
As  the  gay  hours  slip  by,  they  gaze  and  gossip, 


Play  Time 


243 

and  when  the  night  drags  they  eat  and  sleep 
by  snatches.  At  quiet  moments  can  be  heard 
the  devout  drone  of  prayers  at  the  nearby 
pagoda  and  the  tinkle  of  the  htee  bells  in  the  soft 
evening  air.  Ah,  there  is  a lure  about  the 
lights  and  the  colors  and  the  moving  throng  and 
the  general  aspect  of  something  doing,  that 
appeals  to  the  human  heart  and  makes  the 
Burman  love  his  people  and  his  religion  very 
much  indeed.  Perhaps  it  is  beside  the  question 
to  ask,  What  about  the  day  after?  But  anyway 
he  has  a good  time  while  it  lasts;  and  as  to 
how  much  lasting  satisfaction  he  gets  out  of  it, 
we  do  not  know,  for  “The  East  is  East.” 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  METHOD 

TEACHER,  I want  to  learn  a trade.” 

He  was  a sleepy-eyed  Burmese  young- 
ster from  a distant  village,  who  had  heard 
from  afar  of  the  new  school. 

“Is  it  so,  San  Hla  (Beautiful  Rice)?”  I said 
cordially.  “And  what  trade  do  you  want  to 
learn?  ” 

He  wiggled  his  bare  toes  in  the  dust  for  a 
moment,  and  then  came  out  with,  “To  make 

shoes.” 

“Very  well,”  and  I led  him  over  to  the 
workshop,  where  several  boys  of  his  age  were 
learning  to  cut,  pound,  and  nail  sole  leather. 
He  looked  at  the  workers  for  a few  minutes,  and 
slowly  a shade  of  disappointment  stole  over 
his  brown  face. 

“How  is  that?”  I asked. 

“Teacher,  I didn’t  want  to  learn  to  do  it 
that  way.” 

“Then  how  did  you  want  to  learn  to  do  it?” 
“ I want  to  stand  at  a machine,  and  put 

244 


Teachers  and  Students  of  the  Meiktila  Technical  School  in  the  Early  Years  of  the  Institution 


246 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


leather  in  at  one  side,  and  pull  out  a shoe  at 
the  other  side,  all  finished.” 

And  this  boy  was  just  in  from  a section  where 
they  use  the  same  primitive  methods  and  tools 
in  everyday  work  that  the  Egyptians  used  four 
thousand  years  ago.  Whatever  else  I gleaned 
from  this  encounter  with  young  Burma,  I came 
to  know  that  the  boys  who  were  attracted  to  us 
would  first  have  to  be  taught  the  right  view- 
point toward  labor  and  trades.  I painfully 
explained  to  this  aspirant  that  it  would  be  many 
years  before  shoe-making  machinery  of  ad- 
vanced type  could  be  introduced  into  Burma; 
and  in  the  meantime  he  would  have  to  begin 
at  the  bottom  and  learn  to  supply  with  his 
hands  and  a few  simple  tools  what  his  people 
needed  in  the  way  of  foot-gear.  We  wanted 
to  teach  our  boys  to  meet  life  as  it  is  in  their 
own  surroundings. 

He  answered  (with  his  mouth)  that  he  under- 
stood; but  he  went  away  sorrowful.  Some 
wild  report  of  what  we  offered  had  spoiled  him 
for  wholesome  labor.  This  erroneous  idea  was 
not  born  of  a desire  to  use  modern  methods  so 
much  as  to  use  easy  methods.  It  is  the  case 
with  nearly  every  Burmese  boy  that  very  early 
in  life  he  and  work  have  had  trouble — and 
they  have  parted  company.  Only  stern  neces- 


The  Industrial  Method 


247 


sity  unites  them  again.  So  we  set  out  to  teach 
them  to  mix  brains  with  their  work  to  make 
it  easy,  rather  than  to  depend  on  mechanical 
power  that  they  could  never  hope  to  use. 

We  met  one  of  our  first  problems  along  this 
line  in  digging  out  the  earth  for  the  foundation 
of  our  first  building.  It  is  the  custom  to  carry 
the  earth  in  small  round  baskets.  The  Burmese 
women  are  not  too  proud  to  carry  this  load 
on  their  heads,  by  far  the  best  and  least  fatigu- 
ing way  for  anyone  to  carry  a burden.  But 
the  men  and  boys,  never.  So  our  pupils  hugged 
the  baskets  to  their  chests  and  staggered  along 
with  great  effort  to  the  dumping  place. 

We  have  heard  of  a missionary  in  Africa 
who  so  pitied  the  poor  natives  carrying  loads 
on  their  heads  that  he  sent  to  the  homeland  for 
a number  of  wheelbarrows.  When  they  arrived 
he  showed  the  workmen  with  great  delight 
just  how  to  use  them,  and  went  away  feeling 
that  he  had  made  a great  strike  for  the  uplift 
of  sorely  burdened  Africa.  But  what  was  his 
surprise  and  chagrin  on  his  return  later  to  see 
the  toilers  putting  a little  earth  in  each  barrow, 
and  carrying  the  whole  thing  on  their  heads. 

There  was  no  danger  of  that  with  us;  but,  not 
to  risk  too  much,  we  had  our  carpenter  make  a 
few  little  wooden-wheeled  barrows  for  the  job 


248 


hi  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


in  hand.  But  they  were  worn  out  by  the  boys 
playing  horse  with  them  at  odd  moments. 
It  takes  a long  time  to  teach  custom  to  right- 
about-face. But  we  persisted.  The  Burmans 
can  learn  much  from  their  kinfolk  across  the 
Chinese  border  on  the  use  of  wheel-barrows. 

We  strove  to  show  the  boys  and  their  parents 
that  industry  and  work  are  not  synonymous 
with  toil  and  drudgery.  To  them  (and  this  is 
not  confined  to  Burma)  industry  suggests  work, 
and  work  suggests  a coolie,  and  a coolie  suggests 
disgrace.  We  talked  like  this:  Two  boys  are 
removing  some  earth.  One  of  them,  after 
being  compelled  to  throw  aside  his  basket, 
which  he  fills  with  his  hands  and  not  over- 
fondly  embraces,  takes  pick,  shovel,  and  wheel- 
barrow. He  allows  mud  to  accumulate  on  the 
end  of  his  shovel,  and  pushes  and  strains  with 
both  hands  at  the  end  of  the  handle.  He  gives 
a blow  with  the  pick  from  the  height  of  a foot 
above  the  ground.  He  puts  his  load  near  the 
handles  of  the  barrow,  and  trundles  away  with 
it  to  the  tune  of  a whining  wheel.  That  is  toil. 
He  is  a coolie- — a servant  to  his  work.  The 
other  boy  keeps  his  tools  sharp,  so  that  he  will 
not  have  to  “put  to  more  strength. ” His  wheel 
is  oiled,  and  he  makes  it  carry  most  of  the 
load.  He  swings  the  pick  from  over  his  head 


The  Industrial  Method 


249 


with  the  aid  of  his  body,  and  gets  a knee-push 
on  the  shovel  handle.  He  moves  twice  as  much 
material  as  his  companion,  with  the  same 
effort.  That  is  work.  He  is  a master  work- 
man-master of  his  work.  It  is  no  disgrace  to 
start  as  a coolie,  but  it  is  a disgrace  to  remain 
one. 

But  the  talking,  however  convincing  to  us, 
did  not  do  much  good  till  we  resorted  to  the 
proved  way  of  saying  “ Come,  boys”  rather  than 
“Go,  boys,”  and  took  the  lead  in  the  actual 
work.  And  as  the  weary  months  passed, 
gradually  some  of  the  boys  began  to  see  some 
dignity  and  joy  in  labor.  By  continually  ham- 
mering away,  the  idea  of  work,  if  not  in  every 
case  the  work  itself,  was  made  popular  in  the 
school. 

While  we  recognized  that  agriculture  is  the 
A B C of  all  industrial  work,  and  so  should  be 
taught  first  in  physical  education,  we  found 
ourselves  constrained  to  push  a little  further 
along  in  the  alphabet  in  order  to  meet  the 
peculiar  conditions  of  the  country.  Burma 
specializes  on  the  tilling  of  the  ground ; and 
withal  does  well  at  it  when  we  take  into  account 
all  the  obstacles  in  the  way.  Moreover,  the 
people  want  some  other  kind  of  technical 
training;  and  we  were  led  to  give  them  what 


250  Tile  Woodworking  Boys,  Their  Chinese  Teacher,  and  the  Products  of  Their  Hands 


The  Industrial  Method 


251 


they  wanted  so  that  we  might  have  an  attrac- 
tion to  the  school. 

So  we  first  introduced  carpentry,  then  cane- 
work,  and  followed  with  shoe-making.  The 
carpentry  grew  into  furniture  making  as  the 
buildings  were  finished.  That  we  might  be 
distinctive,  and  also  that  we  might  the  more 
easily  get  a market  for  our  wares,  we  adopted 
the  mission  style  of  furniture;  although  we  had 
to  watch  Hong  Lee,  our  Chinese  wood-working 
teacher,  that  he  didn’t  round  off  all  the  sharp 
corners.  He  couldn’t  sleep  well  if  he  finished 
a job  and  left  a square  corner. 

An  expert  cane  worker  could  not  be  found  in 
Burma,  although  cane  furniture  brought  good 
prices  in  the  Rangoon  market.  It  was  shipped 
ready-made  from  Penang  or  Singapore.  Here 
was  our  opportunity.  After  negotiating  for 
some  time  with  our  missionaries  in  Singapore, 
we  contracted  for  a Chinese  cane  worker  to 
come  up  and  work  for  us.  His  name  was 
Woon  Chan  Koo,  and  he  was  originally  from 
Canton.  He  knew  only  his  own  dialect  and 
Alalay;  and  it  was  a long  journey  to  take 
alone  into  a strange  country.  But  he  dared, 
and  landed  from  the  boat  at  Rangoon  scared 
pale,  and  clutching  wildly  at  a copy  of  the 
Review  and  Herald,  which  the  Singapore  workers 


2 52  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

had  given  him  for  identification.  Brother 
Votaw  met  him;  but  they  could  not  find  one  of 
his  fellow-countrymen  along  the  wharf  street 
— and  there  are  thousands  of  them — who  could 
understand  his  dialect.  A bystander  observed 
after  hearing  him  talk  and  trying  in  vain  to 
catch  his  drift,  “Well,  that’s  one  kind  of  a 
Chinaman.” 

But  we  found  Woon  Chan  Koo  to  be  a good 
kind,  for  he  came  through  all  right,  and  proved 
to  be  a tireless  worker  who  turned  out  a first- 
class  product.  We  instructed  him  by  motions 
at  first;  but  he  soon  picked  up  enough  Burmese 
to  express  himself,  and  especially  after  he 
married  a Burmese  wife.  He  and  his  pupils 
were  soon  manufacturing  chairs  and  baskets 
by  the  dozen,  for  which  we  found  a ready  sale. 

Our  best  business  was  in  leather.  For  a 
teacher  we  got  a man  from  India,  who  had 
learned  to  make  English-style  shoes  indirectly 
from  missionaries.  It  was  hopeless  to  compete 
with  Chinese  and  Burmese  cheap  labor  and  long 
working  hours  in  making  the  native  sandals. 
We  did  not  neglect  instruction  in  this,  but  led 
on  to  more  difficult  makes.  American  lasts 
and  leathers  were  imported  and  a specialty 
made  of  some  better  styles.  We  introduced 
the  wide  turned-up  toe,  fashionable  at  that 


Woon  Chan  Koo  (in  the  middle  of  the  doorway)  and  His  Class  of  Cone  Workers  253 


2J4  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

time;  and  soon  were  supplying  missionaries, 
officials,  and  the  many  Burmese  who  are 
adopting  Western  shoes.  Our  repair  work  was 
very  extensive.  Bright  yellow,  low-cut  shoes 
were  in  biggest  demand  with  the  natives. 

Many  boys  would  not  stick  to  a trade  long 
enough  to  master  it;  so  a deposit  of  five  rupees 
($1.60)  was  required  of  those  who  started  a 
trade,  as  a guaiantee  that  they  would  stick 
to  it  for  a year.  After  they  once  got  to  the 
place  where  they  accomplished  something  worth 
while,  there  was. not  much  difficulty  in  keeping 
them  at  it.  Again,  they  were  not  anxious 
to  work  unless  they  received  pay;  and  we  had 
to  adapt  ourselves  to  this  short-sighted  view, 
and  yet  not  spoil  the  boys.  So  we  paid  them 
two  pice  (one  cent)  an  hour  when  they  did 
more  harm  than  good  in  waste  of  material ; 
and  later  they  got  one  anna  (two  cents)  when 
they  earned  two  annas.  They  understood  the 
scheme,  but  preferred  working  that  way  rather 
than  getting  nothing  but  increased  skill  for 
compensation  at  first.  Also  wTe  found  that  we 
could  get  on  with  them  best,  and  with  the 
least  inconvenience  to  us,  if  we  paid  them  cash 
in  hand  for  their  work,  rather  than  apply  their 
wages  on  their  accounts.  They  wanted  to 
handle  the  coins. 


The  Industrial  Method 


255 


From  the  very  start,  the  difficulties  en- 
countered in  keeping  the  school  out  of  debt 
were  constant  sources  of  worry.  This  state  of 
affairs  is  nothing  unusual  in  many  institutions 
and  families;  but  with  the  school  there  it  had  a 
unique  setting;  and  it  is  of  interest  to  note 
how  the  good  hand  of  God  helped  us  in  our 
extremities.  We  started  out  well,  being  able 
to  buy  the  land  and  erect  one  school  building 
with  the  money  subscribed  locally.  This  was 
after  two  years  hard  pulling.  By  the  close 
of  the  third  year  we  had  a mission  home  built 
with  means  supplied  by  the  Mission  Board. 

By  another  strong  effort  we  were  able  to  raise 
sufficient  to  build  our  technical  arts  building, 
the  same  size  as  the  school  house.  A mat 
teacher’s  house  and  boys’  dormitory  followed 
in  due  course.  So  far  we  were  able  to  keep 
our  heads  above  the  waters  of  debt,  but  were 
hard  pressed.  After  the  first  flush  of  novelty 
had  worn  off  the  idea  of  learning  trades,  we 
found  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  get  the 
boys  to  be  enthusiastic  over  the  work  we  were 
doing.  We  were  trying  to  change  centuries 
of  ingrained  habit,  and  it  wTould  take  a long  as 
well  as  a strong  pull.  The  crisis  was  approach- 
ing that  always  threatens  a new  venture,  which 
ends  in  complete  failure  on  one  hand  or  “getting 
second  wind”  on  the  other. 


256 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Our  expense  budget  came  under  three  heads: 
(i)  salaries  and  general  expense  for  teaching 
the  trades;  (2)  salaries  of  literary  teachers; 
(3)  boarding  the  boys  who  lived  on  the  campus. 
As  to  the  first:  without  charging  the  boys  any 
tuition  for  trades,  and  by  paying  them  a mini- 
mum wage  for  salable  products,  we  managed  to 
make  the  trades  average  self-support.  In  the 
case  of  the  book-learning  department,  the  small 
tuition  we  were  able  to  charge — the  rate  set 
for  the  government-controlled  schools — was  not 
nearly  sufficient  to  pay  the  teachers’  salaries — 
this  mainly  because  the  attendance  was  not 
large.  The  enrollment  had  run  up  to  one  hun- 
dred and  forty,  but  had  dropped  as  we  met 
counter-attractions  and  opposing  forces  got  to 
work.  And  the  boarding  department  ran  be- 
hind because  we  had  taken  in  a number  of 
promising  orphans  and  cast-offs  who  had  no 
money  at  all.  Much  of  the  expense  for 
these,  however,  was  made  up  by  interested 
friends  in  America  who  supported  worthy 
boys. 

As  a whole  the  school  was  slowly  sinking, 
financially,  although  it  had  all  the  ear-marks 
of  success  in  other  particulars.  We  could  not 
go  on  this  way  and  live.  What  was  to  be  done? 
Of  course  we  were  told  by  those  who  had 


The  Industrial  Method 


257 


tried  to  do  the  same  thing  we  were  doing  and 
had  failed,  and  by  those  who  opposed  the 
whole  aim  of  the  school  as  commendable  but 
futile,  that  they  knew  that  this  was  just  what  we 
would  come  to.  For  Burmese  boys  could  not  be 
induced  to  work,  they  said,  especially  in  con- 
nection with  a school.  They  never  knew  how 
near  their  prophecy  came  true.  So  it  was 
driven  home  to  us  that  we  had  better  give  up 
our  dream  of  technical  education,  settle  back 
to  a literary  school  like  all  the  others  in  the 
country — and  accept  government  aid. 

That  question  of  government  aid  had  been 
our  stumbling  block  from  the  first.  The  govern- 
ment of  India  and  Burma  has  a system  whereby 
private  or  mission  schools  may  receive  financial 
aid  from  the  Government  to  the  extent  of  half 
of  the  cost  of  buildings  and  half  of  the  teacher’s 
salaries.  (There  are  no  public  schools  in  Burma 
such  as  are  in  the  United  States).  Naturally, 
in  return  for  such  help,  the  Government  Edu- 
cational Department  claims  a hold  on  all  aided 
institutions.  In  order  to  regulate  them  and  have 
a uniform  course  of  study,  standard  text  books, 
and  properly  qualified  teachers,  a curriculum 
is  outlined,  texts  are  approved,  and  teachers  are 
required  to  pass  government  examinations,  be- 
fore aid  is  granted. 


9 


he  Indian  Teacher  and  Ilia  Cluss  of  Shoemaker*.  Showing  Some  of  Their  Hundiworlc 


The  Industrial  Method 


259 


Nearly  all  schools  conform,  and  accept  this 
aid,  being  unable  to  maintain  themselves  with- 
out it  and  at  the  same  time  compete  success- 
fully with  other  institutions.  And  there  were  a 
great  many  reasons  why  we  also  should  accept 
it;  for  we  were  not  at  all  opposed  to  it  in  prin- 
ciple, nor  were  we  teaching  anything  that  would 
tend  to  make  us  outlaws  or  seditionists.  Yet 
we  struggled  on  for  five  years  without  a pice 
from  it.  On  the  opening  of  our  work  we  were 
urged  to  take  the  aid — urged  by  government 
officials,  and  it  was  a very  grave  question  for 
some  time  whether  we  would  or  not.  We 
decided  against  it,  at  least  till  we  had  tried  the 
other  way.  And  this  because  we  felt  that  we 
must  be  free  if  we  expected  to  develop  our  ideals 
successfully. 

To  follow  the  Government  outlined  course 
exactly  would  mean  that  we  would  have  very 
little  time  for  anything  else.  Other  mission 
schools  were  finding  difficulty  to  add  Bible 
study  and  general  Christian  work  to  their 
program,  subjects  for  which  the  prescribed 
curriculum  made  no  provision.  How  could  we 
find  time  for  several  hours  a day  for  trade 
teaching  also?  With  an  easy-going  people  in  a 
tropic  clime,  who  were  not  given  to  study  or 
energetic  effort,  it  could  not  be  done. 


260  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

So  we  compromised  by  eliminating  some 
literary  subjects  which  were  not  necessary  for 
a boy  who  was  to  learn  a trade,  correlated 
studies  as  much  as  possible,  taught  the  boys 
healthful,  steady  habits,  and  sought  God’s 
blessing  on  our  efforts.  And  thus  we  were 
able  to  get  in  a full  program  of  practical  work. 

Then  came  the  climax  of  our  struggle.  A 
conference  of  government  officials,  merchants, 
and  manufacturers  was  called  at  Rangoon  to 
determine  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of 
technical  education  in  the  province.  One  man 
who  was  present  told  me  afterward  that  they 
closed  the  conference  with  the  settled  conviction 
that  nothing  could  be  done,  or  at  any  rate  that  the 
time  was  not  ripe  for  a beginning.  Some  sloyd 
subjects  had  been  introduced  into  the  schools, 
but  they  were  largely  optional,  and  met  with 
little  favor. 

But  before  and  after  this  conference  we  were 
toiling  along,  trying  hard  to  prove  something 
to  the  country  and  ourselves,  and  to  all  appear- 
ances making  a complete  fizzle  of  it.  It  is 
plain  to  be  seen  now  that  all  that  was  needed 
was  a connecting  up  of  our  interests  and  those 
of  the  Government.  We  could  at  least  partly 
solve  their  problem  of  technical  education,  and 
they  could  wholly  solve  our  financial  one.  Just 


The  Industrial  Method 


261 

when  we  were  in  our  most  dire  straits,  one  day 
the  commissioner  of  education  in  our  district 
made  us  an  unsolicited  visit.  He  took  a thorough 
view  of  the  whole  plant,  and  asked  many 
questions.  When  he  was  ready  to  leave  he 
ejaculated,  “Well,  you  are  doing  just  what  that 
conference  in  Rangoon  said  couldn't  be  done.” 

Almost  immediately  we  heard  trom  the  Edu- 
cational Department,  urging  that  we  take  steps 
to  get  recognition.  It  was  with  some  mis- 
givings that  we  entered  into  negotiations  with 
the  officials.  But  red  tape  seemed  to  be  the 
chief  obstacle  in  the  way,  and  they  were  very 
willing  to  make  concessions  for  our  sakes,  since 
they  recognized  that  we  had  really  made  a 
creditable  beginning  at  teaching  trades  to  Bur- 
mese youth. 

After  that  the  way  was  easy.  We  were 
given  permission  to  substitute  technical  subjects 
for  literary,  under  certain  restrictions,  which 
were  very  reasonable;  and  the  elementary  hand 
work  was  adapted  to  our  needs. 

Thus  our  land  and  buildings  are  freehold 
still,  because  we  paid  in  full  for  them.  Half 
of  the  teachers’  salaries  are  paid  by  the  Govern- 
ment, with  the  privilege  of  withdrawing  from 
this  arrangement  at  the  end  of  any  school 
year,  if  we  so  choose.  With  government  recog- 


262 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


nition  as  a drawing  card,  and  through  the 
efficient  management  of  my  successor  in  the 
school,  Don  C.  Ludington,  the  enrollment  has 
doubled,  and  brighter  days  are  ahead.  The 
institution  is  self-supporting,  and  boasts  a 
surplus  each  year,  a degree  of  material  pros- 
perity beyond  the  hope  of  its  most  sanguine 
well-wishers. 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  EVERYDAY  OF  MISSIONARY  LIFE 

WE  HAD  been  speaking  of  some  diffi- 
culties, financial  and  otherwise,  of  living 
in  a foreign  land  as  a missionary,  when 
a friend  exclaimed,  “Why  don’t  you  live  like 
the  natives?  You  say  they  live  on  a few  cents  a 
day.”  And  our  answer  wras,  “Because  we 
don’t  want  to  die  like  the  natives.”  But  this 
is  only  part  of  the  answer  that  the  question 
deserves.  The  home-come  missionary  meets 
also  the  following:  “ How  do  you  like  living  over 
there?  Can  you  really  get  used  to  it  so  that 
it  seems  like  home?  Did  a snake  ever  get  into 
your  bed?  How  many  tigers” — etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

All  such  questions  are  perfectly  natural,  and 
deserve  fair  answers.  There  are  thousands  of 
stories  of  how  people  on  the  other  side  of  the 
world  live,  and  many  of  them  are  contradic- 
tory. Yet  we  sincerely  believe  that  nearly  all 
who  tell  them  aim  to  give  a true  picture.  Mis- 
sionaries particularly  seek  to  make  correct  im- 
pressions, nor  do  they  knowingly  exaggerate. 

263 


The  Mission  Home  at  Meiklila  Soon  After  It  was  lluilt,  the  Cook  House  and  Servants’  Quarters  in  the  Hear 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  265 

So  we  wonder  where  false  impressions  originate. 

Ask  three  residents  of  the  United  States  how 
people  live  in  this  country,  when  one  of  the  three 
was  reared  in  New  York  City,  another  in  an 
Arizona  desert,  and  the  third  on  a North 
Dakota  farm.  They  may  all  tell  the  exact 
truth  and  flatly  contradict  one  another.  But 
America  is  a big  country.  Yes,  and  so  is  the 
Indian  Empire,  with  much  more  varied  a 
climate  and  population.  We  will  not  take  space 
to  elucidate  this,  as  any  good  book  on  life  in 
southern  Asia  will  show  it.  Reporters’  view- 
points differ  according  to  their  immediate  sur- 
roundings and  the  features  which  impress  them 
most. 

We  will  tell  something  of  what  it  means  for  a 
missionary  to  live  in  Burma.  Frankly,  we  did  not 
like  to  live  there — at  first.  Or  perhaps  I had 
better  say,  at  second.  For  at  first  our  curiosity 
was  daily  keyed  up  by  fresh  surprises  and  the 
newness  of  all  of  it,  to  the  extent  that  life  was 
a series  of  adventures.  This  keenness  soon 
passed  away,  though  not  entirely,  as  there  is 
always  something  new  to  learn  in  these  countries 
as  at  home. 

When  we  settled  down  to  the  routine  life,  then 
came  the  really  hard  part,  the  period  between 
adventure  and  accomplishment.  This  time  of 


266 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


adaptation  is  tided  over  by  resoluteness  of  soul, 
a firm  trust  in  the  guidance  of  God,  and  a 
finding  of  comfort  in  memories  and  hopes.  Home- 
sickness of  the  most  virulent  type  will  come  with 
its  heartsinkings,  a few  strange,  acute  ailments 
pester  the  body,  and  unsympathetic  surround- 
ings and  unsatisfactory  living  conditions  gener- 
ally try  the  patience  of  the  soul  experience. 

But  the  missionary  goes  forth  expecting  such 
enemies  to  try  his  steel.  And  they  are  only 
passing  troubles.  When  the  language  is  gotten 
sufficiently  so  that  he  can  converse  on  simple 
topics  with  the  people,  say  by  the  end  of  the 
first  year  or  before;  when  he  gets  well  acclimated, 
which  does  not  come  much  before  the  third 
year;  and  when  he  sees  the  needy  helped  by, 
and  appreciative  of,  his  efforts — then  he  begins 
to  get  into  the  heart  of  native  life.  And  there 
is  always  high  satisfaction  in  working  with  the 
hearts  of  any  people. 

After  three  years  we  wanted  to  stay  in  Burma 
for  all  time,  although  of  course  there  is  always 
a longing  to  visit  the  home  folks  once  in  a 
great  while;  but  even  this  wears  away  with  the 
years  and  a furlough  or  two.  And  after  being 
compelled  to  leave  the  field  and  sta)'  away  for  a 
few  years,  we  find  the  longing  ever  present  to 
return  to  Burma  for  good.  Every  home-tied 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  267 

missionary  testifies  to  this  heart  hunger  for  the 
land  of  his  exploits  for  God. 

As  to  wild  beasts  and  reptiles,  much  depends 
upon  where  the  mission  home  is  located.  Wild 
animals  do  not  attack  man  unless  they  are 
driven  to  it,  or  unless  he  purposely  or  acci- 
dentally disturbs  them  in  their  haunts.  During 
our  whole  experience  we  never  saw  a wild 
elephant,  never  a tiger  or  a cobra  or  a wild 
boar  except  in  a zoo,  and  very  few  deer,  snakes, 
and  monkeys.  Deer  barking  and  monkey 
chattering  are  common  sounds  in  the  hills,  but 
it  is  difficult  to  get  near  the  animals  themselves. 

One  dark  night  we  were  riding  down  a steep 
road  with  our  feet  dangling  out  of  the  rear  end 
of  a native  cart.  Suddenly  a chetah,  a mild 
leopard-like  member  of  the  cat  family  who  dotes 
on  dog  flesh,  made  a wild  leap  from  an  over- 
hanging bank  in  an  effort  to  seize  our  cartman’s 
dog.  He  succeeded  in  badly  scaring  the  canine 
and  in  making  our  blood  run  cold,  but  other- 
wise we  suffered  no  harm. 

We  have  seen  four-inch  centipedes  as  thick 
as  your  finger  wiggle  toward  us  across  the 
living  room  floor;  and  have  roused  out  whole 
nests  of  scorpions  from  the  mat  walls  of  our 
house;  but  it  required  little  effort  to  keep  away 
from  the  poison  of  these  little  pests  and  to 
dispatch  them  in  a hurry. 


268 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Our  worst  experience  with  a snake  occurred 
one  night  when  we  were  returning  from  a visit. 
Snakes  like  to  stretch  out  in  the  dust  of  the 
road  in  the  moonlight,  and  it  is  well  to  be  on 
the  watch  for  them.  Merwin,  our  oldest  boy, 
was  wheeling  his  little  sister  in  a go-cart  just 
ahead  of  me;  the  wheel  must  have  run  over  one 
of  these  snakes,  and  then  the  boy  stepped  on  it. 
He  was  wearing  sandals  and  the  reptile  curled 
up  and  bit  him  on  the  instep.  He  shouted  out 
with  great  pain  and  I urged  his  mother  on  to  the 
house  with  him  to  get  the  wound  opened  up, 
while  I stayed  for  a minute  to  kill  and  secure 
the  snake  so  that  we  could  see  if  it  were  poison- 
ous. 

In  a few  minutes  our  Burmese  servant  came 
running  with  a light,  and  on  investigation  said 
that  the  one  I had  killed  was  very  deadly,  and 
that  we  must  do  something  for  Merwin  im- 
mediately if  we  would  save  his  life.  Meanwhile 
the  boy  was  rolling  on  the  floor  in  agony  as  the 
pain  increased.  We  were  distracted  to  know 
what  to  do  and  resorted  to  sucking  the  wound 
to  get  out  the  poison;  but  the  servant  took  a 
light  and  ran  out  into  the  field  to  get  the  leaves 
of  a certain  weed  that  is  known  to  be  good 
in  such  a case.  When  these  leaves  were  rubbed 
into  the  bite  it  seemed  to  help  a little,  and  after 
some  time  Merwin  went  to  sleep. 


a fortnight  was  all  over  the  effects  of  the  acci- 
dent. Our  man  attributed  his  recovery  partly 
to  the  weed  leaves  and  partly  to  the  fact  that 
the  snake  was  a young  member  of  the  species, 
whose  poison  was  not  so  virulent  as  that  of 
mature  ones. 

We  found  that  it  was  best  to  keep  the  yard 
immediately  around  the  house  free  from  growth 
of  any  kind,  even  grass,  and  this  had  a tendency 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  z6g 

We  prayed  earnestly  for  his  life  and  were 
gratified  to  find  him  not  getting  any  worse. 
He  was  unable  to  walk  for  several  days  but  in 


Interior  of  the  Mission  House  at  Meiktila,  Showing  how  Homelike 
it  May  be  Made,  Even  to  the  Cat 


27 o In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

to  keep  reptiles  at  a distance.  Altogether,  I do 
not  believe  we  saw  any  larger  number  of  snakes 
in  Burma  than  we  have  seen  during  the  same 
length  of  time  in  America. 

We  did  not  live  like  the  natives  in  Burma. 
Dr.  Brown,  in  his  book,  The  Foreign  Missionary , 
says,  “The  natives  do  not  live;  they  die.  ” The 
mortality  is  fearful.  Ignorance  and  unsanitary 
conditions  make  for  disease  and  death  at  a rate 
unknown  in  western  lands.  Burma  is  prolific 
in  children,  but  oh  how  fast  they  die!  The  land 
would  be  in  continual  mourning  if  death  affected 
them  as  seriously  as  it  does  some. 

Another  reason  why  the  missionaries  do  not 
live  like  the  natives  is  because  western  dress 
has  grown  to  be  distinctive  of  authority,  and 
in  some  cases,  of  superiority;  so  it  commands 
their  respect,  just  as  does  a white  face.  These 
things  are  badges  of  power  to  the  native  and  ap- 
peal to  his  sense  of  respect  for  leadership. 

Again,  foreigners  can  not  get  so  accustomed 
to  the  climate  that  they  can  go  about  in  native 
costume,  bareheaded.  However,  missionaries 
come  as  near  being  like  the  sons  of  the  soil  as 
possible,  so  that  they  may  better  understand 
the  native  mind  and  heart.  And  there  is  no 
question  but  that  the  nearer  one  comes  to  living 
as  they  do,  the  cheaper  will  his  living  be.  But, 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  2yi 

considering  the  standards  the  missionary  must 
maintain,  with  all  the  economy  he  can  practise, 
he  will  find  that  living  costs  are  just  about  the 
same  as  in  America.  Certain  foods  are  cheaper, 
such  as  rice  and  fruits;  but  some  foods  that  he 
must  have  in  poor  seasons,  and  for  a change  of 
diet,  must  come  from  abroad  and  are  costly. 
A suit  of  light  clothes  costs  less,  but  he  must 
needs  have  several  of  them  and  have  them 
washed  often.  Rents  are  lower,  but  what  is 
saved  there  is  eaten  up  in  servant  hire. 

A few  servants  are  absolutely  necessary. 
The  full  complement  of  a household  is  supposed 
to  be  seventeen.  But  missionaries  get  along 
with  one  or  two  full-time,  and  a few  part-time, 
helpers.  Because  the  servant  class  are  usually 
Indians,  and  caste-bound,  it  is  difficult  to  get 
them  to  do  more  than  one  line  of  work.  The 
cook  is  the  necessity,  because  of  the  heat.  But 
he  doesn’t  want  to  wash  dishes  nor  wait  on  the 
table;  and  he  simply  won’t  sweep,  for  cleaning 
is  considered  one  of  the  lowest  of  scavenger  jobs. 

Missionaries  must  have  servants,  because 
both  man  and  wife  are  not  sent  to  the  field  to 
drudge  and  hang  over  a fire,  but  to  win  souls. 
But  a few  servants  are  not  expensive  luxuries. 
Their  wages  are  low,  ranging  from  $5  to  $10  a 
month,  they  finding  their  own  food,  although 


2J2  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

they  “find”  much  of  it  by  little  bits  filched  from 
what  is  doled  out  to  be  cooked  for  master’s 
table.  But  to  the  servant  this  is  not  stealing. 
It  is  “custom.”  That  word  is  the  excuse  for 
many  a privilege  taken  at  the  expense  of  the 
household  budget. 

The  kitchen  is  a separate  building  back  of 
the  house.  Its  stove  is  a solid  stone,  brick,  or 
cement  table-like  affair  with  large  niches  in  the 
top  to  contain  the  fire.  Wood  is  the  fuel  and  the 
smoke  escapes  as  it  may,  through  door,  window, 
or  an  open-work  roof.  The  Indian  chef  concocts 
some  dainty  and  tasty  dishes  with  his  crude 
apparatus.  He  bakes  an  excellent  cake  in  an 
old  oil  can  for  an  oven,  and  boils  rice  to  flaky 
perfection. 

It  is  morning  of  an  ordinary  day  in  our  mis- 
sion home.  We  rise  at  six  and  resort  to  the 
bathroom  for  a cool  pour.  Off  every  bedroom  is 
the  ten-by-twelve  bath  and  toilet  room,  not, 
however,  the  elaborate  affair  of  the  West.  A 
cement  floor,  with  a three-inch  hole  in  the  corner 
for  an  outlet,  with  a large  earthen  jar  of  water 
and  other  toilet  articles  for  furniture — this  is 
the  bathroom. 

Once  up  and  around  we  brew  a hot  drink  over 
a litle  oil  stove  and  sip  it  to  the  accompaniment 
of  a slice  of  toast  for  “little  breakfast.” 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  273 

The  cook  has  not  appeared  yet.  Under  in- 
struction from  the  night  before  he  is  off  at 
daylight  to  bazaar  to  buy  the  day’s  food.  If 
it  were  big  bazaar  day(  big  bazaar  comes  every 
fifth  day)  we  would  go  too,  to  meet  the  people 
from  the  whole  countryside,  to  get  a change  from 
routine,  and  for  economy  in  buying.  But  the 
cook  does  fairly  well;  in  fact  he  gets  food  cheaper 
than  we  can  from  the  dealers,  though  before  it 
reaches  us  it  is  diminished  in  weight.  Be  it 
known  that  bazaar  is  market,  a central  in- 
closure where  everyone  goes  to  buy  or  sell 
everything. 

As  we  bustle  about  the  house,  the  dude 
wallah  (milk  man)  knocks  at  the  door.  He  has 
come  at  a swinging  walk  with  two  pails  of  milk 
slung  from  a pole  over  one  shoulder.  The 
liquid  would  spill  over  with  this  motion  were  it 
not  that,  as  he  passed  a straw  stack  or  tree,  he 
grabbed  a handful  of  straw  or  twigs  to  put 
into  it.  As  he  squats  on  the  door  step  we  put 
down  a container,  and  wink  our  eyes  as  he  bares 
one  arm  to  the  elbow,  plunges  a dirty  hand  to  the 
bottom  of  the  milk  and  fishes  out  his  two 
measuring  cups.  Full  measure  given,  he  throws 
in  a little  for  backsheesh  (a  present) , and  wipes 
up  the  spilled  drops  from  the  floor  with  the 
bare  hand,  which  goes  into  the  next  customer’s 


274  /«  Lhe  Land  of  Pagodas 

milk.  But  never  mind,  we  can’t  change  him. 
We  tried  having  him  bring  our  milk  in  a bottle, 
but  we  could  never  be  sure  about  the  bottles 
being  clean,  and  he  always  brought  it  immersed 
in  the  other  milk.  So  we  strain  and  boil  his 
product,  and  let  not  our  appetites  know  what 
our  eyes  see. 

The  mater  is  next  on  hand.  He  is  the  general 
scavenger,  and  always  carries  a broom,  a stocky 
bunch  of  coarse  straws  which  are  set  so  far 
apart  at  their  business  ends  that  we  wonder 
how  its  wielder  ever  manages  to  move  the  dust. 
But  he  does  a fair  piece  of  cleaning,  if  we  insist 
on  it,  though  the  corners  get  scant  attention. 

This  is  the  morning  for  the  dhobi  (laundry- 
man).  He  appears,  almost  hidden  under  a 
snow-white  bundle  of  clothes,  and  we  get  out 
the  dhobi  book,  a record  of  what  he  took  last 
week.  He  lays  out  the  clean  linen  on  bed  and 
table  and  chairs,  each  kind  by  itself,  counting 
them  over  in  a droning  monotone,  as  mem- 
sahib  (the  mistress  of  the  house)  checks  them 
off.  He  is  severely  admonished  to  be  sure  to 
bring  next  time  one  or  two  articles  that  are 
missing,  and  roundly  scolded  for  having  broken 
off  thirteen  buttons  in  this  week’s  wash.  He 
bows  to  the  floor  in  humility  and  promises  any- 
thing, only  that  mem-sahib  shall  be  pleased.  He 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  275 

has  washed  the  clothes  by  beating  them  on  a 
stone  by  the  lake  side,  and  stretching  them  on 
the  grass  to  dry.  It  is  surprising  how  snowy 
they  are,  and  starched  collars  are  finished 
first-class.  All  this  for  $1.60  a hundred  pieces, 
regardless  of  size.  Then  we  give  him  the  soiled 
linen  for  this  week,  counting  it  all  over  care- 
fully, and  send  him  away  with  a pleasant  word. 

Next  the  rotie  wallah  with  his  bread  basket 
on  his  head  summons  us  with  his  call,  and 
supplies  a good  quality  of  white  bread.  The 
cloth  he  has  over  it  isn’t  the  cleanest,  and 
someone  tells  us  he  sleeps  on  his  mixing  board; 
but  you  can’t  believe  all  you  hear.  Anyway  this 
is  the  only  way  to  get  bread,  for  cook  can’t 
bake  it. 

Then  the  pannie  wallah,  (water  carrier), 
bent  almost  double  with  a huge  pig-skin  of  water 
on  his  back,  comes  laboring  up  the  steps  and 
fills  the  jars  in  the  bathroom  with  a swish. 
Also  the  five  gallon  can  for  drinking  water  is 
filled.  When  cook  comes  he  will  boil  this,  and 
put  it  in  a porous  earthen  jar  on  a stand  in  the 
dining  room;  it  will  be  cool  (that  is,  as  cool 
as  water  gets  in  Burma,  which  is  usually  luke- 
warm) for  tomorrow.  It  must  be  carefu  Iv 
strained,  too,  for  the  pannie  wallah  walked 
right  into  the  lake  to  get  it,  where  hundreds  of 


2y6 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


others  walk  every  day  for  the  same  purpose. 

Cook  is  back  from  bazaar,  and  is  doled  out 
food  for  breakfast,  which  is  served  at  io:  30. 
Meanwhile  the  missionary  man  has  been  about 


Our  Water  Was  Brought  from  the  Lake  in  a Barrel  on  Wheels 


his  duties  in  school,  evangelistic  work,  or 
mission  business.  School  began  early,  and  this 
is  the  midday  recess. 

The  meal  is  of  dahl,  grains  and  milk,  rice 
and  curry,  and  fruit.  Appetites  are  none  too 
good,  but  there  is  a relish  notwithstanding. 
Cook  waits  on  table  (with  rather  poor  grace,  for 
it  is  a disgrace)  carrying  over  his  shoulder  his. 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  277 

general-purpose  cloth  (if  we  let  him).  This 
cloth  does  duty  for  a dozen  uses,  from  handling 
hot  dishes  to  wiping  his  hands  and  face — even 
to  use  as  a drinking-water  strainer,  if  the 
mem-sahib  isn’t  particular.  All  of  which  goes 
to  show  that  if  we  keep  well  in  Burma  we  must 
watch  our  servants,  our  food  and  water,  and  our 
general  surroundings,  and  yet  not  be  too  finicky 
about  dirt  if  it  is  clean,  and  about  germs  if 
they  are  dead. 

In  the  middle  of  the  day  the  missionary 
ought  to  take  a siesta — a nap  of  two  hours’ 
duration — if  he  would  be  one  with  the  people, 
and  be  sensible.  The  failure  to  do  this  has 
sent  many  a worker  home.  After  rest-hour, 
reading  and  study  are  indulged. 

As  four  o’clock  approaches  we  take  a shower 
bath  with  our  dipper,  and  change  to  clean 
clothing.  Four  is  the  calling  hour,  from  then 
till  six.  There  is  a social  call  or  two  to  be  made, 
which  is  a part  of  the  missionary’s  work.  Social 
calls  mean  a great  deal  in  the  East,  and  open  the 
way  for  gospel  work.  Of  course  at  these  hours 
also  we  remain  at  home,  on  certain  days,  and 
receive  callers.  We  find  our  neighbors  devoting 
plenty  of  time  in  their  calendars  for  hospitality 
and  visiting;  but  it  must  be  done  at  a certain 
time  in  the  day,  when  all  are  dressed  up  for  it. 


2y8 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


At  other  hours,  comfort  in  a warm  clime  demands 
a state  of  undress  unpresentable  for  callers,  in 
their  estimation. 

Six  o’clock  or  thereabouts  finds  us  at  dinner, 
though  the  people  generally,  foreigners  and  all, 
eat  their  most  elaborate  meal  at  eight.  Ours 
is  a Burmo-American  vegetable  dinner,  served 
in  three  or  four  courses. 

Later  evening  is  the  opportune  time  for  round- 
ing off  the  day’s  work  in  visiting  interested 
believers  and  the  sick,  giving  pictured  Bible 
lectures  in  the  village,  planning  the  next  day’s 
work,  and  in  reading  or  study.  Before  ten  we 
are  in  bed,  to  complete  a perfect  missionary 
day. 

The  life  is  ideal  and  fascinating,  after  we  settle 
down  to  it.  Mingled  with  toil  and  the  common- 
place are  the  hundred  and  one  passing  interests 
and  attractions  which  make  life  anywhere  a 
joy — the  quaintness  and  simplicity  of  the  jungle 
folk;  the  freshness  of  early  morning;  the  squeak 
of  cart  wheels  and  the  distant  drumming  of 
native  music;  the  hollow  tapping  of  eow-bells 
and  the  bleating  of  goats;  the  majesty  and  force 
of  storms  and  the  dead  quiet  of  noondays;  the 
clearness  of  rainbows  and  most  glorious  of  sunsets; 
the  purple  haze  of  twilight,  and  an  endless 
variety  of  lures  and  delights  that  make  Burma 


The  Everyday  of  Missionary  Life  27  g 

Burma.  While  the  same  as  other  lands  in  many 
respects,  yet  it  is  different  in  its  very  similarity 
— which  paradox  needs  to  be  lived  in  order 
to  be  understood. 


A Missionary  Group  at  the  Hill  Station,  Kalaw 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  REWARDS  OF  LABOR 

THE  rewards  of  a missionary’s  labor  are 
souls  won  for  Christ.  There  are  other 
rewards,  and  the  worker  gets  his  thrills 
and  satisfaction  from  stations  established,  litera- 
ture distributed,  large  school  attendances,  build- 
ings erected,  and  reputations  gained;  but  these 
are  as  nothing  beside  the  real  reward.  It  is  the 
final  incentive  that  keeps  him  in  the  field  at 
work  amid  strain  and  loss  and  sickness  and 
utter  discouragement.  The  wise  man  said, 
(and  he  knew)  “ He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise.  ” 
He  might  have  added,  “ and  happy.  ” 

So,  not  to  say  there  are  no  joys  of  living  and 
seeing,  of  accomplishing  and  sacrificing  for  a 
good  cause,  we  will  simply  leave  them  out  of  this 
story.  And  because  there  is  a strong  desire 
on  the  part  of  the  folks  at  home  to  know  things 
as  they  are  in  the  mission  field,  we  will  begin 
with  a failure — that  is,  a seeming  failure  now; 
but  the  end  is  not  yet.  The  hero  days  of  the 
mission  endeavor  are  not  past;  but  to  tell  the 

280 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  281 

truth  about  the  work  so  that  the  reader  gets 
a true  picture,  it  is  necessary  to  notice  the  plod- 
ding heroes  as  well  as  the  meteoric  ones. 

Christian  readers  of  these  lines  can  never 
know  the  long  trail  that  leads  from  rank  heathen 
customs,  modes  of  thought,  and  moral  ideals, 
to  the  heights  of  Christianity.  From  the  human 
standpoint  it  is  small  wonder  that  some  stumble 
in  the  Way,  and  fall  to  rise  again  no  more. 
The  wonder  is  that  they  continue  at  all,  with 
all  there  is  to  overcome.  But  God’s  love  and 
power  are  wonders,  and  that’s  how  they  can 
— and  do.  Would  you  see  a life  now  in  the 
making  upward,  with  its  ups  and  downs — just 
now,  downs?  Would  you  follow  a biography 
the  sequel  of  which  is  yet  to  be  written  because 
it  is  yet  to  be  lived?  Then  read  the  story  of 
Ba  Sain  (we  will  call  him  Ba  Sain  because  that 
is  not  his  name).  Every  missionary  has  these 
unfinished  biographies  stored  away  in  his  heart, 
which  are  added  to  from  day  to  day.  And 
each  is  unfinished  because  he  still  hopes  and 
prays  and  works  to  the  purpose  that  the  last 
chapter  shall  be  as  happy  as  the  latest  is  dis- 
heartening. 

Ba  Sain  boarded  the  train  with  all  the  non- 
chalance of  his  fifteen  Burman  years.  Head  up, 
walk  a swagger,  lips  ready  to  accost  any  and 


282 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


every  one  with  a pleasantry,  he  sat  down  on  the 
narrow  board  seat  of  the  third-class  compart- 
ment, and  deposited  his  bundle  by  his  side. 
With  the  same  air,  he  lighted  a cigarette,  and 
blew  smoke  out  the  window,  his  feet  perched  on 
the  opposite  seat.  He  looked  the  personi- 
fication of  self-satisfaction.  Nothing  mattered. 

But  this  was  all  on  the  outside.  Ba  Sain  was 
troubled.  The  careless  demeanor  was  habitual, 
but  beneath  it  there  slumbered  a conscience. 
He  wanted  satisfaction,  that  boon  we  all  want. 
His  mother  had  been  a Buddhist  nun,  and  had 
lost  her  mind;  and  his  father  was  rather  in- 
different about  him.  He  was  going  to  live  with 
his  married  sister  in  Rangoon.  Perhaps  the 
great  city  held  what  he  desired. 

The  long  train  curved  snakelike  among  the 
far-reaching  rieefields,  Ba  Sain  looked  out,  but 
did  not  see.  He  was  thinking  of  a legend  of  the 
great  Gautama,  which  his  father  had  told  him 
that  day.  In  a former  existence,  Gautama  had 
been  a calf,  and  when  his  mother  drank  at  the 
brook,  he  inadvertently  drank  from  a little  way 
up-stream,  and  muddied  the  water  which  his 
mother  was  drinking.  For  this  breach  of  good 
manners  he  was  fated  forever  after  to  have  all 
water  become  muddy  as  soon  as  he  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  Strange  truth,  this! 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


283 


Worshipping  before  a Buddha  in  a Sacred  Cave 


Ba  Sain  recalled  a recent  experience  in  which 
his  susceptible  conscience  had  been  overurged 
to  get  him  to  seek  the  jungle  places  near  Maul- 


284 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


main,  where  the  priests  lived  an  ascetic  life  and 
had  to  be  supported  in  their  walk  because  their 
food  was  “vegetation.”  He  sought  the  peace 
they  seemed  to  have,  but  it  was  not  for  him. 
Perhaps  the  Good  Man  would  yet  lead  him  in 
the  true  way.  But  just  now  he  was  on  the 
point  of  giving  up  everything  that  disciplined, 
and  starting  to  do  just  as  he  pleased.  What 
was  the  use  of  trying,  anyway?  Other  people 
were  happy,  why  shouldn’t  he  be?  This  endless 
trying-to-do-right-and-ean’t  was  maddening. 
The  Christians  were  the  best  favored,  and  hadn’t 
their  God  helped  them  to  rule  almost  the  whole 
world?  Yet  every  one  said  that  Burma  had 
become  more  wicked,  and  that  there  was  more 
disease,  since  the  Christians  came.  The  puzzle 
of  things  as  they  are  was  too  much  for  him. 

As  the  train  rolled  on,  vague  plans  for  the 
future  became  a part  of  his  reverie — vague 
because  he  knew  so  little  about  the  city  and 
its  ways.  With  but  a change  of  clothing  and 
his  ticket  to  Rangoon,  he  must  now  make 
his  own  way  in  the  world ; and  what  place  would 
his  scant  education  find  for  him?  He  was  eager 
and  willing,  but — Nicotine  just  then  called  for 
another  puff,  and  on  suiting  the  action  to  the 
desire,  he  found  that  the  cigarette  had  “gone 
dead.”  And  his  matches  were  gone,  too.  How 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


285 

careless!  (No,  how  providential!)  He  looked 
around,  and  saw  a man  and  a boy  watching 
him. 

“Is  there  a match  with  you?’’  he  asked;  and 
after  he  said  it,  he  noticed  that  the  man  had 
been  reading  a book,  and  there  was  a pleased 
expression  on  his  face. 

“No,”  came  the  answer,  “I  don’t  drink 
smoke;  so  I have  no  need  of  matches.” 

“Strange,”  thought  Ba  Sain;  and  he  asked 
aloud,  “What  book  do  you  read?” 

“The  Bible.” 

“O,  a Christian!”  and  there  was  a tone  of 
dampened  friendliness  in  his  voice.  “You  are 
a Christian,  and  you  don’t  drink  smoke? 
How  is  that?  I learned  to  smoke  cigarettes  in 
a Christian  school.  Doesn’t  the  Christian’s 
God  drink  smoke?”  This  in  a bantering 
voice. 

The  man  looked  displeased,  and  the  boy 
laughed. 

“No,  God  doesn’t  drink  smoke;  and  true, 
enlightened  Christians  do  not  either.  It  is  a 
bad  habit,  bad  for  the  body,  and  the  mind, 
and  the  heart.  I know  a Christian  school  where 
neither  the  teachers  nor  the  boys  drink  smoke. 
I wish  you  could  go  there.” 

Well,  here  was  a new  thing  in  Burma,  and 


286 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


Ba  Sain  caught  at  the  idea.  He  was  informed 
of  a school  at  Meiktila  where  the  boys  were 
taught  morals  and  hand-work  as  well  as  the 
book  lessons  the  other  schools  taught.  Yes, 
poor  boys  could  have  a chance;  for  the  tuition 
fees  were  low,  and  if  a boy  were  diligent  he 
could  earn  his  way.  He  would  emerge  from 
the  school  with  a trade,  a character,  and  a 
trained  mind. 

Ba  Sain  questioned  in  his  mind  about  “coolie 
work”  being  in  any  way  desirable,  but  here 
was  a chance  to  get  “book  learning,”  and  it 
was  not  to  be  scorned.  This  well-appearing  man 
was  a teacher  in  the  school,  and  was  now  on  his 
way  there.  Perhaps  it  was  all  untrue;  but  he 
was  absorbed  in  it,  and  the  time  passed  quickly 
till  the  train  arrived  at  Pegu.  Here  the  erst- 
while fellow-travelers  parted,  and  in  two  hours 
Ba  Sain  was  being  jostled  by  the  crowd  at  the 
Rangoon  station. 

His  sister  lived  in  a poorer  section  of  the 
noisy  city.  Burma’s  metropolis  seethed  like  a 
caldron  at  this  season.  The  intense  heat  was 
accentuated  by  the  crowded  condition.  The 
choky  dust,  the  filth  of  the  foreign  element, 
the  rabble  among  whom  he  was  as  nothing,  dis- 
gusted him  in  a short  time.  What  chance  here 
without  money?  Then  he  opened  his  heart 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  287 

about  that  school,  and  a sympathetic  sister 
heard  with  interest.  It  appealed  to  them. 
A will  was  born,  and  a way  was  sure  to  follow. 
Somehow  she  got  together  ten  rupees  for  him, 
and  half  of  it  was  spent  for  a ticket  to  Meiktila. 
God  bless  her  sacrifice!  She  is  dead  now,  but 
that  was  the  greatest  thing  she  ever  did. 

The  boy  came  without  previous  notice  or 
arrangement ; and  the  next  morning,  before  day- 
light, he  was  landed  at  the  “desired  haven,” 
but  hardly  knowing  “whither  he  went.”  There 
were  no  likely  persons  astir  to  guide  him,  so  he 
sat  down  on  a step  and  waited — waited  for 
some  one  to  come;  for  he  was  sure  some  one 
would  come.  At  daylight  the  very  boy  whom 
he  had  seen  with  the  teacher  on  the  train  passed 
that  way.  Hailing  him  and  making  explana- 
tions, the  rest  was  easy.  We  took  him  on  the 
recommendation  of  his  efforts  to  reach  us. 

At  first  he  was  disappointed.  His  natural 
love  of  a big  show  was  not  satisfied.  There  was 
only  a rented  building,  and  no  school  com- 
pound. No  trades  were  taught  yet,  and  there 
were  but  few  boys,  compared  with  the  school 
he  had  attended.  But  it  offered  a better  chance 
for  an  education  than  did  Rangoon  or  home. 
Little  did  he  realize  that  an  institution  is  as 
great  as  its  principles,  and  that  the  most  privi- 


288 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


leged  persons  in  the  world  are  those  who  do  not 
despise  the  “day  of  small  things,”  but  are 
pioneers  in  a noble  work.  The  teachers  treated 
him  kindly,  and  took  a personal  interest  in 
helping  him  to  improve;  and  soon  he  felt  at 
home,  with  one  exception — the  hated  Chris- 
tianity. 

He  had  held  the  indifference  of  youth,  even 
to  Buddhism,  before;  but  now  that  he  was 
feeling  its  hold  on  him  loosen  almost  before  he 
knew  it,  he  was  roused  to  fight  for  it  with 
desperation.  Ba  Sain  was  honest  and  energetic, 
and  these  very  traits  made  him  an  ardent 
disciple  of  Gautama,  when  his  cause  was  assailed. 
But  nothing  was  said  to  discountenance  his 
faith  in  the  Buddha.  The  simple  truth  was  told, 
but  it  brought  forth  many  a hard-fought 
argument  with  the  teachers.  And  this  worthy 
champion  of  heathenism  had  the  self-confidence 
to  believe  that  he  could  reason  the  best.  Perhaps 
he  was  right.  But  there  was  that  Book.  He 
couldn’t  fight  a book,  and  yet  its  contents  and 
spirit  were  fighting  him  every  day. 

Like  others  who,  in  spite  of  their  pride,  are 
compelled  to  acknowledge  to  themselves  that 
they  are  gradually  losing  ground,  Ba  Sain  now 
tried  to  hide  his  discomfiture  by  smoking, 
by  learning  to  swear  in  English  and  practising 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  289 

the  art  in  the  hearing  of  .the  missionaries,  and 
by  making  himself  generally  objectionable.  Con- 
tempt was  his  last  weakhold.  His  cult  sadly 
needed  defending,  but  he  had  made  poor  work 
at  its  defense. 

Down  by  the  lake,  one  day,  he  sat  despond- 
ently looking  at  the  lap  of  the  wavelets  on  the 
pebbly  shore.  All  at  once,  in  that  way  familiar 
to  Christians  who  seek  God,  there  flashed  into 
his  prejudiced  mind  a little  light.  Why,  these 
people  had  the  satisfaction  that  he  had  vainly 
sought ! Their  religion  helped  them  to  live 
lives  of  peace  in  spite  of  the  glaring  incon- 
sistencies of  its  believers.  And  after  all,  isn’t 
that  all  that  is  worth  while?  Surely  the  truth 
alone  can  beget  peace.  Why  hadn’t  he  seen  it 
before?  Gautama  tells  us  how  to  do  right,  but 
Christ  helps  us  do  it.  The  great  gospel  truths 
which  had  been  seeking  entrance  to  his  heart, 
had  at  last  found  lodgment.  And  once  entered, 
they  pervaded  his  whole  knowledge,  and  suffused 
his  entire  thought  and  life.  Gautama  merits. 
Jesus  saves.  This  is  Christianity.  O that  he 
had  only  known  it  before!  Every7  one  would 
accept  it  if  they  only  knew.  He  must  tell  them. 
And  right  there  was  born  in  his  soul  the  saving 
spirit  that  was  not  to  pass  away.  Again  nothing 
mattered,  but  how  different  the  feeling! 

10 


290  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

Ba  Sain  was  forward,  and  fought  a good  battle 
on  either  side,  when  he  was  sure  he  was  right. 
He  grasped  the  Bible  truths  with  avidity,  and 
imparted  as  he  learned.  At  almost  one  stroke 
he  stood  forth  a man  in  Christ.  Rarely  are  seen 
changes  so  complete  as  his.  Enslaving  habits 
were  dethroned ; the  feasts  and  fasts  and  foolish- 
ness of  Gautama-as-he-is-worshiped  lost  their 
lure;  rice  and  curry  became  secondary;  and  he 
boldly  sought  “first  the  kingdom.”  No  work 
was  too  hard,  no  place  too  humble.  Like  Samuel, 
he  delighted  to  keep  in  order  the  house  of  God. 
Nothing  pleased  him  better  than  to  lead  his 
schoolmates  to  Christ.  Three  years  from  the 
time  he  came  to  us,  he  was  preceptor  in  the 
school.  Rising  bravely  above  objectionable 
character  traits  within  and  strong  opposition 
from  without,  he  stood,  just  merging  into  man- 
hood, at  the  beginning  of  usefulness  for  God, 
a trusted  servant,  an  intelligent  student,  an 
energetic  worker,  a monument  to  missionary 
effort. 

Then  came  a change,  gradual  at  first,  so  that 
we  did  not  realize  its  significance  till  it  was  too 
late  to  stave  off  the  catastrophe.  Perhaps  we 
were  over-confident,  and  we,  as  well  as  he,  had 
to  be  taught  a lesson.  For  our  hopes  centered 
in  Ba  vSain  as  our  first  fruits,  an  example  to  the 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  2gi 

flock.  Little  did  we  think  that  he  was  to  fall. 
And  when  he  did  fall,  the  bottom  seemed  to 
have  dropped  out  of  our  effort.  If  Ba  vSain 
could  not  stand,  who  could?  And  what  was 
the  use  of  working  for  them?  How  much  we 
had  to  learn  in  not  trusting  to  appearances,  and 
in  not  judging  all  by  one. 

Without  any  warning,  the  boy  suddenly  dis- 
appeared. We  found  that  he  had  borrowed 
what  money  he  could  from  his  associates,  and 
had  gone  no  one  knew  where.  In  western 
countries  it  is  not  easy  for  a boy  to  run  away 
from  home  and  friends.  Usually,  after  a brush 
against  the  cold  world,  he  is  glad  enough  to 
return.  We  say  of  the  truant,  “O,  he’ll  come 
back.”  But  the  world  isn’t  cold  in  Burma, 
physically  or  socially.  No  fire  is  absolutely 
necessary  except  to  cook  food,  and  fifty  cents 
would  buy  enough  clothing  for  a year’s  wear. 
Food  is  cheap,  and  the  people  are  hospitable. 
It  is  surprising  how  they  will  take  in  total 
strangers  and  feed  them  for  days  at  a time,  pass- 
ing them  on  to  neighbors  when  it  gets  to  be  an 
old  story.  As  a last  resort  the  runaway  may  easily 
join  the  priests,  shave  his  head  and  don  a 
yellow  robe,  and  through  the  medium  of  the 
begging  bowl  procure  a good  living  with  little 
effort. 


2g2  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

But  our  young  student  sought  the  friends  of 
his  childhood  who  had  became  gay  youths. 
Being  of  good  address,  and  with  a polish  and 
education  that  had  been  given  him  at  great 
sacrifice,  he  soon  secured  a position  as  a clerk 
in  a European  store  at  a good  wage.  There  was 
much  idle  time,  and  this  was  spent  in  fulfilling 
the  desires  of  his  heart.  Thanks  to  his  training 
and  the  real  presence  of  God  in  his  life,  he  did 
not  go  to  the  limit  in  riotous  living.  But 
misfortune  came.  Some  of  the  things  he  had 
bought  were  stolen;  and  the  trunk  containing 
all  his  clothes  fell  off  a ferry-boat  into  the 
river. 

All  this  we  did  not  know  till  afterward. 
Several  months  after  he  had  disappeared  he 
came  among  us  as  suddenly  and  as  unexpectedly 
as  he  had  gone.  In  spirit,  we  received  him  as 
the  father  did  the  prodigal,  and  his  heart  was 
melted.  Ever  since,  he  has  called  me  his  father, 
and  I am  his  father  today.  He  made  restitution 
in  every  way  he  could;  and  humbly  started  at 
the  beginning  again  to  win  back  his  reputa- 
tion. There  were  scars  left  that  could  not  be 
effaced;  but  are  any  lives  free  from  them? 
He  rose  higher  and  higher  in  trustworthiness, 
and  became  especially  noted  for  industry  and 
honesty. 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  2Q3 

A year  passed,  and  changes  were  made  in  the 
school.  We  were  transferred  to  Rangoon,  and 
Ba  Sain  was  bitterly  disappointed  at  our 
leaving.  He  was  very  jealously  attached  to  those 
who  had  brought  him  the  light,  as  are  all  who 
come  out  of  darkness.  Long  used  to  visible 
objects  of  worship,  it  is  difficult  for  them  to 
see  the  invisible,  and  so  they  become  devotedly 
attached  to  their  immediate  benefactors. 

He  wanted  to  try  selling  the  products  of  our 
shoe-making  department  on  the  road ; so  he 
was  sent  to  travel  about  the  country  and  take 
orders.  He  started  with  high  hopes,  and  shoes 
by  parcel  post  were  being  sent  on  his  trail 
at  a good  rate.  Then  suddenly  the  orders  ceased 
coming,  and  he  disappeared.  Weeks  passed, 
and  we  could  find  no  trace  of  him  anywhere. 
Had  he  failed  us  again?  It  seemed  hopeless  to 
try  to  help  him;  but  we  clung  to  our  faith. 

One  day,  long  after  he  had  dropped  out  of  our 
knowledge,  I received  a letter  from  him  at  an 
address  I had  never  known.  It  told  a strange 
story.  He  had  visited  his  old  home  in  his 
travels;  and  his  father  and  older  brother  had 
concocted  a scheme  to  rescue  him  from  the 
clutches  of  Christianity,  since  they  believed  he 
had  been  forced,  or  duped,  into  accepting  it, 
and  had  been  imprisoned  at  the  school.  While 


2Q4  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

he  slept  they  took  away  his  clothes,  and  left 
only  the  barest  necessities  for  decency.  Later 
his  brother,  who  was  a forest  guard  in  the 
employ  of  the  government,  took  him  away  off 
into  the  jungle  country  many  miles  from  the 
railroad,  and  kept  him  there  by  force.  But 
the  boy  managed  to  communicate  with  me 
through  another  guard  he  had  met,  who  mailed 
his  letter.  He  wanted  me  to  tell  him  what 
to  do. 

I was  rather  non-commital  in  my  answer,  for 
the  law  provides  that  children,  even  when  they 
attain  considerable  age,  are  under  the  control 
of  their  parents  and  older  brothers.  My  letter 
might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  brother,  and  I 
did  not  want  to  misrepresent  the  Christian 
attitude.  That  is  just  what  happened  to  the 
letter;  and  the  captive  was  placed  under  more 
careful  watch. 

We  prayed,  and  Ba  Sain  planned;  and  at 
last  he  made  his  escape.  With  difficulty  he  made 
his  way  to  our  nearest  station  only  half  clothed, 
and  there  received  money  to  pay  for  clothing 
and  his  fare  to  Rangoon.  This  experience  had  a 
sobering  effect  upon  him,  and  he  was  more  than 
ever  moved  to  work  for  God. 

About  this  time  we  were  opening  a training 
school  at  Lucknow,  India,  for  higher  students  to 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


295 


get  a final  fitting  for  gospel  work.  It  seemed 
best  to  send  Ba  Sain  there  for  the  course  of  two 
years.  Soon  reports  came  that  he  was  doing 
good  work  in  the  school,  and  he  wrote  glowing 
letters  of  his  joy  in  the  work.  He  was  allowed 


The  Class  at  Woodwork  in  the  Industrial  Building 


five  rupees  (about  $1.60)  a month  for  doing 
extra  work,  and  with  this  he  bought,  one  at  a 
time,  most  of  our  denominational  books,  and 
read  them  diligently.  As  the  period  of  his 
training  neared  completion  he  gave  more  and 


296 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


more  promise  of  becoming  a successful  evangel- 
ist for  his  own  people. 

But  there  was  something  the  matter  with 
Ba  Sain.  Perhaps  he  was  too  forward  and 
independent.  He  had  a misunderstanding  with 
some  of  his  superiors,  and  ended  by  going  back 
to  Burma  and  taking  a position  as  an  office 
worker  with  a commercial  firm  in  Rangoon. 
And  there  he  is  today.  But  he  writes  that  there 
is  still  something  tugging  at  his  heart,  urging 
him  to  give  this  message  to  his  people. 

In  spite  of  his  many  failures,  Ba  Sain  was 
always  an  inspiration  to  me  because  of  the 
wonderful  transformation  that  was  worked  by 
God  in  his  life.  He  was  my  first-born  in  Burma 
— the  firstfruit  of  labor. 


An  entirely  different  story  is  that  of  Peter, 
the  Karen  boy.  Pastor  Votaw  had  stood  forth 
in  the  General  Conference  of  1909  and  had 
eloquently  pleaded  for  this  people  in  these 
burning  words: 

“I  must  speak  in  terms  the  strongest  that  I 
can  command  in  regard  to  the  crying  need  of 
laborers  to  begin  work  among  the  Karens. 
I feel  sure  that  no  yet  unentered  territory  pre- 
sents so  strong  a plea  for  help,  and  it  is  a ques- 


The  Rewards  of  Labor  297 

tion  in  my  mind  whether  any  call  for  help  which 
has  been,  or  shall  be,  presented  at  this  Con- 
ference is  deserving  of  more  immediate  con- 
sideration than  this  plea.  Ever  since  we  have 
lived  in  Burma,  we  have  written  and  pleaded  for 
some  one  to  come  to  give  this  glorious  message 
to  the  simple-minded  hill  folk  of  the  mountains 
of  Burma.  Possessing  such  traditions  as  they 
do,  they  are  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the 
influence  of  the  gospel.  Many  have  speculated 
concerning  the  folklore  of  the  Karens.  Where 
and  how  did  they  obtain  it?  It  is  jealously 
guarded,  and  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation.  In  outline,  if  not  in  absolute 
detail,  it  agrees  with  the  Scriptural  narrative, 
including  the  account  of  the  forming  of  woman 
from  the  rib  of  man,  the  fall,  the  flood,  etc. 
‘Because  that  when  they  knew  God,  they 
glorified  him  not  as  God,  ’ the  knowledge  of 
their  Creator  was  withdrawn  from  them,  not, 
however,  without  the  promise  being  left  to  them 
that  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God  should 
again  be  brought  to  these  whom  he  had  tempo- 
rarily east  off.  ‘White  foreigners,’  coming  in 
ships,  were  to  be  the  bearers  of  the  good  tidings. 
Those  who  have  not  yet  accepted  Christianity 
represent  their  present  condition  by  the  follow- 
ing illustration:  A father  and  his  children  were 


2q8 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


traversing  a narrow  foot-path  on  the  moun- 
tain-side. At  a convenient  place  on  a ledge  of 
rock  the  father  left  his  children  while  he  went 
elsewhere.  A tiger  was  seen  approaching. 
vSeized  by  fear,  the  children,  to  save  them- 
selves, east  a pig  over  the  cliff  to  the  approach- 
ing tiger.  ‘Thus,’  they  say,  ‘we  sacrifice  to 
the  demons  only  because  we  fear  them,  not  that 
we  would  worship  them.’ 

“Already  thousands  have  turned  to  Christi- 
anity, and  it  is  not  strange,  since  they  have 
such  a favorable  predilection  for  the  gospel. 
The  Baptists  claim  some  40,000  communi- 
cants among  them,  I am  told.  Other  missions 
also  have  flourishing  congregations.  They  make 
excellent  Christians,  and  the  change  for  good 
which  Christianity  has  made,  and  is  making, 
in  them  is  witnessed  to  in  emphatic  terms  by  all 
who  are  in  a position  to  speak  intelligently. 

“The  Karens  number  about  three-quarters  of 
a million,  and  are  divided  into  three  main 
tribes.  They  live  almost  entirely  in  the  hills, 
or  in  the  low  land  immediately  adjacent.  Who- 
ever begins  work  for  these  people  must  expect 
hard  work,  for  it  is  difficult  to  visit  their  moun- 
tain villages;  but  surely  the  results  will  pay 
abundantly.  O that  God  might  lay  upon  some 
strong  men  and  women  the  burden  of  this  work ! 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


299 


Who  will  become  the  apostle  of  this  great 
message  to  these  hungry  souls?  Would  it  not 
be  worth  more,  far  more,  than  the  sacrifice  it 
demands  to  be  able  to  stand  with  the  redeemed 
of  this  people  on  the  sea  of  glass  and  join 
with  them  in  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  I* 
My  soul  has  been  burdened  as  I think  of  the 
Karens  still  waiting  for  the  truth.  I have 
promised  before  God  that  I will  leave  nothing 
that  lies  in  my  power  undone  in  my  efforts  to 
secure  some  one  to  begin  this  work.” 

The  first  one  to  answer  this  call  came  a year 
later,  in  the  person  of  Miss  Mary  Gibbs,  from 
Kansas  (now  Mrs.  DeNoyer,  and  still  an  ardent 
apostle  to  the  Karens).  She  mastered  their 
language  in  a little  time;  but  was  unable  to  get 
out  among  them  alone  in  their  inaccessible  hills. 
But  there  were  other  ways.  While  taking  a 
rest  in  a hill  station  she  became  acquainted 
with  some  neighboring  Karens,  and  persuaded 
three  boys  to  attend  our  school,  which  was 
just  starting.  Strong  inducements  had  to  be 
offered,  for  the  hill-born  love  their  hills.  They 
had  been  given  Christian  names, — Peter,  John, 
and  Tom.  Hardy  fellows  in  their  teens,  they 
walked  thirty  miles  to  the  railway — which 
wonder  they  had  never  seen  before — and  ar- 
rived the  following  day  at  the  school.  They 


300 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


proved  to  be  good  workers,  all  three,  Peter 
starting  to  learn  carpentry,  John  shoemaking, 
and  Tom  cane-work.  A Karen  boy  has  work 


The  Meiktila  School  Group  in  Late  Years 


in  his  bones.  He  couldn’t  coax  a crop  out  of 
the  thin  soil  of  his  narrow  valleys  and  steep 
hillsides  if  he  had  not.  Besides  being  industri- 
ous and  steady,  they  were  fast  becoming  skillful. 

But  those  home  hills  were  in  sight  from  the 
school.  Their  blue  retreats  looked  so  cool  on 
the  hot  days.  They  are  so  hard  for  even  the 
native  of  the  plains  to  resist.  The  boys  wanted  to 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


301 


go  home  for  a visit,  promising  to  come  back. 
We  permitted  them  to  go  with  some  hesitancy, 
for  we  did  want  to  get  a start  among  the  Karens, 
and  the  youth  are  the  hope  of  the  people.  But 
our  worst  fears  were  not  realized.  In  a few 
days  Peter  returned — but  all  alone.  He  was 
the  only  one  who  didn’t  peter.  Although  mis- 
named, he  is  a plodder,  and  says  little.  Some- 
thing stronger  than  the  beauty  of  his  childhood 
haunts  drew  him  to  us.  I can’t  explain  it,  only 
that  it  was  the  same  drawing  power  that  con- 
strained us  to  go  more  than  half  way  to  meet 
him. 

Peter  was,  and  is,  an  unromantic  hero;  but  he 
is  one  of  the  elect.  He  was  baptized,  for  there 
was  no  better  way,  now  that  he  knew  the  truth. 
He  toiled  through  many  difficulties,  for  he  had 
the  Burmese  to  learn  as  well  as  all  his  studies, 
including  English.  He  won  by  sticking.  Then 
be  became  a missionary  in  turn.  Again  he  went 
home  for  a few  weeks,  and  when  he  returned 
he  brought  three  other  Karen  boys  with  him. 
So  they  were  preparing  for  a great  after-work 
among  their  people. 

In  the  meantime,  G.  A.  Hamilton  and  his 
family  had  come  from  California  to  give  them- 
selves to  the  Karens.  As  the  way  opened,  a 
station  was  established  at  Kamamaung,  sixty 


302  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

miles  up  the  Salween  River  from  Maulmain. 
It  is  a splendid  location  on  a promontory  over- 
looking the  wide  sweep  of  the  river.  Though 
it  is  in  a wild  country,  where  the  barking  deer 
are  heard,  and  signs  of  tigers,  elephants,  wild 
boars,  and  snakes  are  abundant,  yet  it  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  Karen  people.  The  jungle  was 
cleared,  and  as  money  came  a mission  home  was 
erected.  Miss  Gibbs  joined  the  family,  and 
soon  a little  dispensary  took  form.  Being  a 
very  efficient  nurse,  she  was  in  her  element. 
This  was  the  entering  wedge;  for  the  people 
were  very  shy.  But  physical  pain  and  sickness 
seek  friends.  They  carried  the  sick  and  injured 
to  her  from  many  miles  around.  Every  day 
brought  its  novel  and  interesting  experiences. 
The  young  people  in  a home  conference  raised 
money  to  buy  a motor  launch  for  use  on  the 
river  and  creeks,  and  soon  it  was  chugging  away 
to  remote  villages  on  errands  of  relief. 

When  the  station  was  well  established,  Eric 
Hare  and  his  wife  from  Australia  took  charge, 
and  the  Hamiltons  and  Miss  Gibbs  moved  on  to 
other  fields.  Then  came  the  problem  of  a 
school.  It  was  hard  to  get  the  parents  to  see 
much  light  in  making  a sacrifice  to  educate  their 
children;  but  there  was  a possibility  of  a few 
pupils,  and  a start  must  be  made.  And  Peter 


The  Rewards  of  Labor 


303 


was  ready.  Hadn’t  he  been  preparing  all  these 
years  for  just  such  an  opportunity.  He  was 
called  to  Kamamaung.  Marrying  a good 
little  wife  from  among  the  people  there,  he 
started  in  to  educate  their  children  and  win 
their  hearts.  He  is  succeeding  at  both. 

And  this  isn’t  all  the  story'.  That  John, 
who  went  home  and  stayed  there,  acted  later 
just  like  another  John,  whose  surname  was 
Mark.  You  will  remember  that  Mark  turned 
back  from  Paul  and  Barnabas  because  of  the 
hardness  of  the  way ; but  afterward  Paul  says  he 
was  profitable  to  him  for  the  gospel.  So  John, 
the  Karen,  afterward  repented  and  went  back  to 
the  school  at  Meiktila.  He  got  a good  training 
and  now  has  joined  Peter  at  Kamamaung. 
Peter  and  John, — a good  combination.  There 
is  a glorious  work  before  them  for  their  kinsmen 
in  the  flesh. 

Space  fails  to  tell  of  others  who  shine  as 
rewards  of  labor.  These  are  average  cases  met 
by  the  missionary.  Nothing  wonderful,  the 
way  the  world  counts  wonderful  things,  but  so 
satisfactory  as  monuments  of  grace. 

And  we  would  not  forget  that  these  same 
boys  were  able  to  stay  in  school  during  the  years 
of  their  training  through  the  steady  gifts  of  a 
few  faithful  souls  in  America,  who  sent  money 


J04  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

regularly  every  month  for  their  support.  One 
of  these  benefactors  earned  her  gifts,  and  her 
own  living,  by  sewing.  Our  boys  are  fast 
friends  of  these  faraway  home  missionaries 
whom  they  have  never  seen ; and  I do  not 
believe  heaven  will  present  any  happier  scene 
than  will  be  afforded  in  the  meeting  together 
of  these  globe-separated  friends  when  missions 


are  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE  WAY  OUT 

IN  THE  land  of  pagodas,  and  in  all  lands,  the 
only  way  out  of  the  task  of  missions  is 
straight  through.  And  as  to  the  way 
through,  see  a picture  of  the  light-keeper. 

He  was  a little  wizened  old  man,  and  he  sat 
there  on  the  smooth  stone  pavement  with  his 
knees  at  his  chin  and  his  arms  folded  across 
them.  With  only  a rough  loin  cloth  and  a thin 
armless  shirt  for  garments,  his  one  touch  of 
color  was  a wisp  of  silk  jauntily  draped  over  his 
mop  of  black  hair.  He  had  a vigil  to  keep  and 
he  was  keeping  it.  His  only  movements  were  a 
rolling  of  his  wad  of  kun  from  cheek  to  cheek, 
and  the  roving  of  his  dark  eyes  from  the  candles 
to  the  throng  and  back  again  to  the  candles. 

The  great  pagoda  rose  high  above  him  into  the 
sultry  tropic  night,  its  pinnacled  top  seeming  to 
swim  in  the  semidarkness.  Up  there  the  little 
silver  bells  that  fringed  the  golden  htee  jingled 
lightly  in  the  gentle  stir  of  a breeze.  Below  was 
a jargon  of  noise,  and  light— blinding,  dazzling 

305 


Where  the  Little  Old  Man  Kept  His  Lights  Burning 


306 


The  Way  Out 


307 


light.  For  the  joyous  light  feast  was  on,  and 
the  famous  Shwe  Dagon  was  receiving  its 
pilgrims  by  the  tens  of  thousands.  The  shrine- 
cluttered  hilltop  resounded  to  myriads  of  merry 
voices,  the  thump-thump  of  drums,  and  the 
booming  of  deep-toned  bells.  Innumerable 
calloused  feet  tramped  over  the  slippery  flags 
and  trampled  on  one  another  at  the  choked 
stairways.  Round  and  round  the  consecrated 
circle  the  mincing  and  gaudy  processions  wound 
their  way  amid  the  blare  of  bands  and  the  glare 
of  lights.  But  through  it  all  the  little  man  sat 
there,  while  his  eyes  roved  from  the  candles 
to  the  throng  and  back  again  to  the  candles. 

Gayety  and  laughter  were  the  order  of  the 
evening.  Weird  and  riotous  music  bade  the 
dancing  girls  be  nimble;  and  puppet  shows  drew 
a thousand  eyes.  Demure  maidens  in  gorgeous 
silks  went  sliding  by  on  their  pretty  slippers, 
the  bunches  of  fragrant  flowers  tucked  into 
their  hair  delighting  the  nostrils  of  the  loitering 
crowds.  Even  the  beggars  reveled  on  this 
night  of  nights,  for  Liberality  and  Prodigality 
walked  abroad,  and  Burma  was  rollicking  with 
joy.  Still  the  little  man  sat  there,  and  still 
his  eyes  roved  from  the  candles  to  the  throng 
and  back  again  to  the  candles. 

His  tiny  lights  were  set  close  together  all  the 


jo8  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

way  around  the  lower  edge  of  his  family  shrine, 
built  and  dedicated  with  great  ceremony  in  his 
boyhood.  A signal  honor  this,  to  be  permitted  a 
place  at  the  great  Shwe  Dagon  for  the  ancestral 
devotions.  The  flickering  flames  must  be  kept 
alight  to  do  homage  to  the  beneficent  Lord 
Gautama  of  long  ago. 

A fitful  gust  fanned  a few  of  the  diminutive 
lights  to  more  rapid  consumption;  and  at  last 
the  watcher  rose,  selected  a few  fresh  candles 
from  a pile  at  his  feet,  lighted  each  one  from  the 
expiring  flame  of  its  predecessor,  and  pressed 
it  into  place  on  the  dying  ember  of  the  other. 
Then,  returning  to  his  place,  the  former  position 
was  resumed,  and  the  alert  eyes  took  up  again 
their  roving  from  the  candles  to  the  throng 
and  back  again  to  the  candles. 

Hour  after  hour  through  the  long  night  the 
vigil  was  kept.  The  crowds  thinned  and 
dwindled  slowly  away.  The  music  died  to  an 
occasional  drumming,  and  the  big  gas-lights  were 
dimmed.  Coolies  drowsed  in  the  corners;  and 
the  stairway  yawned  for  lingering  devotees. 
Dawn  showed  gray  in  the  east,  and  soon  a 
shaft  of  day  caught  the  tip  of  the  golden  htee 
far  overhead.  Slowly  the  little  ring  of  flame 
paled  to  a sickly  hue  in  the  rising  glory  of  the  sun ; 
but  morning  found  the  little  old  man  unchanged, 


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309 


while  his  eyes  roved  from  the  candles  to  the  dawn 
and  back  again  to  the  candles. 

Devoted  religious  fervor — devoted  persist- 
ently, though  hopelessly,  to  “the  light  of 
Asia,”  the  light  that  fails.  Yet  devoted  to  a 
degree  that  points  the  way  for  the  keepers  of 
the  “Light  of  the  world.” 

Then  keep  the  mission  lights  burning,  and 
light  the  way  to  the  end  of  the  task. 

Now  hear  the  parable  of  a treasure  in  a field. 

One  day  long  ago  a poor  Burmese  rice-grower 
was  splashing  back  and  forth  and  round  and 
round  after  his  slow  bullocks  and  crude  plow. 
His  little  plot  was  leased  from  the  village  head- 
man, and  the  hire  of  the  ground  was  so  high  that 
he  barely  managed  to  supply  rice  and  curry 
for  his  family  twice  a day  throughout  the  year. 
He  looked  at  the  future  through  hopeless  eyes, 
and  struggled  on,  getting  less  out  of  life  than 
the  beasts  he  drove. 

On  a raised  spot  at  one  corner  of  his  field 
lay  the  remains  of  a small  pagoda.  No  one 
knew  who  had  built  it.  No  one  had  repaired 
its  decay.  From  a trim  little  whitewashed 
spire  it  had  crumbled  to  a mound  of  mossy 
bricks,  with  just  one  side  of  its  once  proud 
uprightness  remaining  in  air.  For  years  our 
hardy  farmer  had  looked  longingly  at  the  ground 


3io 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


it  occupied,  for  he  needed  every  inch  for  culti- 
vation. And,  acting  on  the  spirit  of  his  desire, 
his  willing  plow  had  cut  a little  into  the  founda- 
tions whenever  it  came  near,  until  today  the 
very  support  of  the  structure  itself  was  threat- 
ened. 

He  stopped  the  bullocks  for  a rest,  and  they 
brushed  against  the  pile  and  began  to  pull 
at  the  succulent  weeds  at  its  base.  An  uprooted 
grass  tuft  started  some  earth  falling,  followed 
by  dusty  old  bricks;  and  man  and  beasts  were 
just  able  to  get  out  of  the  way  before  the 
ancient  pile  toppled  over.  And  there,  uncovered, 
was  an  opening  into  a little  hollow  place.  Only 
a moment  the  man  hesitated ; and  then  he  began 
to  tear  away  the  bricks  and  to  reach  below;  for 
were  not  treasures  sometimes  hidden  beneath 
pagodas?  The  very  fear  of  the  people  to  dis- 
turb a shrine  made  it  a safe  hiding  place  for  a 
miser’s  treasure. 

In  a few  minutes  his  feverish  search  was  re- 
warded; a box,  containing  handfuls  of  blood- 
red  rubies,  and  jade,  and  old  coins,  and  a 
rotting  bag  of  gold  ornaments.  He  was  rich 
at  last.  Oh,  the  ecstasy  of  it!  He  gloated 
over  the  great  find  in  a delirium  of  joy.  But 
no,  the  treasure  was  not  his,  because  the  field 
was  not  his.  The  thought  came  like  a cloud 


The  Way  Out 


3ii 

to  darken  the  golden  prospects.  Yet  there  was 
no  one  near.  Replacing  the  box  and  covering 
it  with  debris  he  left  his  munching  bullocks  and 
ran  for  home,  formulating  a plan  as  he  went. 

The  faithful  wife  shared  his  secret  and  her 
business  instinct  perfected  the  plan.  They 
could  not  hope  to  buy  a small  part  of  the  field, 
for  owners  will  not  break  up  their  possessions; 
and  besides,  it  would  arouse  suspicion.  How 
natural  for  them  to  buy  the  ground  they  had 
cultivated  so  long.  But,  the  price!  It  was 
sure  to  be  far  beyond  their  slender  resources. 
Yet  they  must  have  that  field  to  get  the  trea- 
sure. They  tried  in  vain  to  borrow;  and  then 
began  to  sell.  First  went  the  bullocks  and  plow 
and  cart;  then  the  seed-rice,  and  all  extra  cloth- 
ing they  had.  But  they  did  not  come  near 
getting  enough.  Next  the  little  house  and  all  it 
contained  went  to  swell  the  sum ; and  they  built 
a mat  booth  for  a home.  The  man  was  called  a 
lunatic  by  his  neighbors;  and,  while  they  had 
no  sympathy  for  him,  they  pitied  his  poor 
family. 

Yet  the  value  of  the  land  was  still  beyond 
what  they  could  rake  and  scrape,  and  they 
were  in  despair.  Then  a last  desperate  method 
to  get  money  suggested  itself — so  cruel,  so 
hazardous,  that  fewT  would  risk  it.  But  it  was 


312 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


possible,  and  they  decided  to  make  the  attempt. 
It  was  nothing  less  then  to  sell  themselves  in 
order  to  buy  that  field.  The  treasure  once  theirs 
they  could  buy  back  all  they  had  sold,  and  more. 
With  tears  streaming  down  their  faces  they 
parted  with  their  children  for  a goodly  sum, 
paid  by  a rich  neighbor  in  lieu  of  the  life-long 
services  of  the  promising  little  ones.  There 
was  every  chance  that  something  might  happen 
so  that  the  fortune  would  yet  slip  their  grasp 
and  they  would  be  unable  to  pay  the  increased 
price  that  the  purchasers  would  be  sure  to 
ask  for  a redemption  of  all  they  had  sold.  But 
there  was  no  going  back  now.  The  required 
amount  still  not  reached,  the  plunging  man 
sold  his  wife  into  servitude;  and,  putting  his 
affairs  into  the  hands  of  a trusted  friend,  as  a 
last  surrender,  he  sold  himself.  There  was  no 
other  source  of  revenue.  But  the  purchase 
price  was  reached.  His  friend  secured  the 
field,  with  a clear  title  to  all  that  pertained  to  it, 
and  unearthed  the  treasure. 

And  lo,  what  a transformation!  Exultingly 
the  now  wealthy  farmer  went  from  place  to 
place  and  redeemed  at  handsome  prices  all  he 
had  sold.  Their  wealth  and  joy  henceforth 
was  untold ; and  when  the  villagers  learned 
how  he  had  become  rich,  they  called  him  “the 
wise.” 


Robert  A.  Beckner  and  His  Wife,  Successful  Missionaries  to  Burma 

313 


J14  In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 

It  will*  take  our  all  to  buy  the  field,  but 
when  our  all  is  paid  the  field  will  be  bought. 

And  see,  in  the  way  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom 
is  now  going,  a prophecy  of  how  it  will  be 
finished  in  the  earth. 

A trained  missionary  and  his  wife  established 
a station  at  a strategic  point  in  a language 
area  of  a heathen  country.  They  had  a full 
realization  that  their  message  must  be  pro- 
claimed in  this  generation.  They  knew  three 
facts  that  made  their  task  plain;  First:  that 
all  the  people  in  their  section  of  the  world 
would  not  be  converted  to  their  belief;  for  the 
gospel  of  the  kingdom  is  to  go  as  a witness  only. 
Second:  that  the  gospel  would  not  continue 
to  be  witnessed  at  the  same  rate  it  has  gone 
for  the  last  hundred  years;  for  God  will  cut  it 
short  at  the  end,  and  he  will  do  a quick  work. 
Third:  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  them  to 
go  to  every  individual  in  their  area,  for  their 
efforts  would  be  multiplied  by  native  helpers; 
and  events  would  drive  many  people  to  come 
to  them. 

Yet  the  greatness  of  the  task  staggered  them 
with  its  magnitude.  However,  with  firm  faith 
in  God’s  power  to  accomplish  the  seeming 
impossible,  they  settled  down  and  began  at 
the  beginning.  And  that  beginning  was  a home 


The  Way  Out 


3i5 


established,  a family  altar  set  up,  and  friendly 
relations  formed  with  the  neighbors.  Then 
they  attacked  the  language.  The  best  part  of 
every  day  for  a year  was  given  to  gaining  facility 
in  the  vernacular ; and  as  they  learned  they 
interpreted  their  hope  into  the  words  of  those 
who  lived  near  by.  In  time  the  community 
found  that  they  had  come  to  stay,  to  stay  to  do 
good,  and  to  stay  to  do  good  for  others. 

They  started  a Sabbath  school,  though  at 
first  they  taught  only  each  other;  they  started 
a day  school,  though  it  began  with  a few  children 
clustered  about  the  teachers’  knees;  they  started 
a dispensary,  though  it  consisted  at  first  of 
only  a few  bottles  of  simple  remedies  and 
a pail  and  cloths ; they  started  a publishing  work 
by  translating  a single  leaflet  and  having  it 
printed  at  a native  press.  However  primitive, 
every  agency  of  successful  gospel  propagation 
was  begun.  And  soon  all  grew. 

The  missionaries  came  into  contact  with  thou- 
sands of  natives  in  the  course  of  a few  years’ 
work;  yet  seemed  to  make  but  little  impression 
on  the  great  majority  of  them.  But  a few  able 
men  were  won  and  trained  to  work,  and  they 
in  turn  were  able  to  establish  out-stations  and 
extend  the  influence  of  the  leaders.  The  mis- 
sionaries sought  to  impress  every  heart  they 


A Group  of  Missionaries  and  Their  Native  Helpers  at  an  Annual  Gathering  in  Rangoon 


The  Way  Out 


317 


touched  with  a few  simple  facts;  that  Jesus 
saves  men  from  sin,  and  is  soon  to  come  to  this 
earth;  that  the  Bible  is  the  guide  book  to 
heaven,  and  that  it  foretells  certain  world 
events  which  will  be  signs  of  .the  near  approach 
of  Christ.  Hundreds  came  and  went,  children 
attended  school  and  passed  on,  scores  were 
helped  physically  and  scattered  to  the  four 
winds;  and  very  few  forgot  the  words  of  truth 
dropped  by  the  missionaries. 

Then  the  Great  War  struck  the  world  like  a 
flash  of  lightning.  The  news  of  the  awful  con- 
flict spread  to  the  remote  corners  of  the  globe. 
It  is  remarkable  how  quickly  news  flies  from 
mouth  to  mouth  among  peoples  who  have  no 
railroads,  telegraphs,  telephones,  newspapers, 
nor  any  other  rapid  means  of  communication. 
Around  the  camp-fires  of  savages,  about  the 
rice-pots  of  ignorant  toilers,  in  the  little  markets 
of  far-off  villages,  in  the  councils  of  heathen 
fathers,  rose  the  inevitable  question,  “What 
does  it  all  mean?”  And  always  coupled  with 
this  came  the  other  question,  “What  is  coming 
next?”  Then  in  many  a center  rose  up  a man 
or  a boy  who  had  heard  the  wondrous  story 
that  echoed  every  day  at  the  mission  station; 
and  he  would  tell  the  little  he  knew,— just 
enough  to  whet  the  desires  of  the  people  for  more. 


In  the  Land  of  Pagodas 


3 1* 

vSoon  from  many  quarters  messages  and 
messengers  began  coming  in  to  the  gospel 
center  asking  for  answers  to  the  great  question 
that  was  on  the  lips  of  all,  “What  next?” 
And  the  faithful  missionaries  gave  the  answer  in 
printed  form  to  every  comer,  instructed  the 
inquirers,  and  thanked  God  that  their  message, 
though  unpopular,  was  as  inseparably  connected 
with  world  events,  which  are  popular,  as  a 
vital  answer  is  connected  with  a burning  ques- 
tion. Wherever  the  question  rose  the  answer 
was  forthcoming,  and  far  and  wide  went  the 
stirring  message  of  impending  catastrophe  to 
a world  of  wickedness,  and  glorious  deliverance 
for  the  people  of  the  true  God. 

When  such  stations  are  established  and  main- 
tained in  every  language  area  on  earth,  and  the 
warring  nations  gasp  in  the  last  throes  of 
strife,  then  the  Spirit  of  God  will  move  upon 
whosoever  will  to  seek  him  for  salvation, 
the  missionaries  will  be  ready  to  bear  witness, 
“and  then  shall  the  end  come.’’^ 


THE  End 


DATE  DUE 


GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  USA 

